


Could Be The One (to set you free)

by Hyeyu



Series: (not quite) bedtime stories [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Angst, Beauty and the Beast Elements, East of the Sun and West of the Moon Elements, Fairy Tale Elements, M/M, Romance, Slow Burn, Urban Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-09
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-09-07 11:21:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 41,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8798938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hyeyu/pseuds/Hyeyu
Summary: All Oikawa wants to do is find the mythical beast that had rescued him as a child. Instead, the cryptozoologist finds himself unexpectedly pulled into circumstances more magical than he can possibly fathom, all revolving around a being he can't help but be drawn to.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> *flails* So, I've been working on this for months now; I'm actually still a bit nervous about posting this for a myriad of reasons. Still, it would be a waste of a lot of hours if I chicken out at this point, so here it is for your reading pleasure (I hope)! The fic itself is actually already completed - I'll update it as the the chapters finish undergoing editing/beta-checking. 
> 
> While this is tagged as a 'Beauty and the Beast' AU, it's probably more accurate to say it's very loosely based on the fairytale, with elements of 'East of the Sun and West of the Moon' also incorporated into the plot. Either way, don't expect a particularly faithful retelling of BatB. (ﾉ≧∀≦ヽ)
> 
> Character tags will be updated as the fic progresses; there really isn't anyone particularly surprising in terms of appearance, but still.

Oikawa Tooru liked to think he was a fairly patient person. He had to be, as a cryptozoologist dedicated to proving the existence of the Hibagon, Japan’s version of the yeti.

But as Ushijima insisted on what must have been the thirtieth stop in their trek within the hour, the researcher was sorely tempted to hurl the other man off the side of the mountain, professionalism be damned.

“You’re worse than a kindergartener who can’t hold their bladder, Ushiwaka-chan. Seriously, do we need to get you diapers? I heard they made those in adult sizes now.”

“It’s important that I get an appropriate variety of samples from this area.” Ushijima’s voice was unruffled, slightly muted from how it was filtered through the undergrowth. “To be honest, I don’t understand why you are in such a rush to pursue this wild goose chase of yours. Surely if the beast you keep insisting is real exists, researchers would have found some evidence of its presence by now.”

“We _are_ those researchers, Ushiwaka-chan. Sheesh, I thought they only awarded degrees to smart people.” Oikawa rolled his eyes before he turned to push his way through brambles thick enough to snap against his knees and ankles. The humidity of summer couldn’t fully penetrate the lofty canopy over their heads, but the heat snuck down Oikawa’s collar anyway, sweat soaking into his collar as he squatted to examine potential track marks in the soft loam.

If Ushijima said something in reply, it was swallowed completely by the largeness of the forest they were in. On Oikawa’s right, Sawamura chuckled as the stocky man crouched beside him. “Cut him some slack. An agronomist saddled with a bunch of paranormal cryptozoologists who can’t seem to stay in a single spot long enough? I’d be disgruntled too if I were him.”

“He doesn’t deserve any concessions.” Oikawa dismissed the markings in the ground as fox prints, heaving himself back onto his feet. “No one forced him to tag along.”

“Well, he _does_ have to collect soil samples for his own research; from what I’ve heard, it’s a pretty significant development in the agriculture field. And you know how tight the university is with resources and all that.”

“So? I’m not stopping him from collecting all the soil he wants, so long as he doesn’t hold up our search. And right now, he’s doing exactly that.” Standing back up, Oikawa rescanned their surroundings in the hopes of noticing something out of place, whether a snapped branch, or a bare patch amidst dense bushes. “Where’s Refreshing-kun?”

“Koushi’s scoping out the area just west of us. He took Hinata and Kageyama with him.”

“Ah, no wonder it’s been so quiet this afternoon.”

“They do tend to be a bit on the loud side.” Sawamura glanced at Oikawa out of the corner of his eye. “This was where you encountered him, huh? The Hibagon?”

“Yep.” The mere reminder of the incident sent a shiver of anticipation rippling through the researcher’s frame. All the studying, the diligent publications, the cajoling and networking in order to raise sufficient funding had finally culminated in the greenlighting of this particular project, something Oikawa had been working towards for years. As a child, Oikawa had been fascinated by the idea of the unknown. It had initially been aliens, the young child enraptured by the thought that there might be life beyond the borders of known sky.

But aliens, as fascinating a concept as they are, were a beguiling possibility, not a guaranteed existence. The Hibagon, on the other hand, was real. Every fiber of Oikawa’s being knew this without a hint of a doubt.

He had met it once.

He had been nine and reckless, distracted by what he was convinced was a spaceship in the sky during a school camping trip. Intrigued, he had wandered away from the chatter around the bonfire and the teachers’ slightly lax supervision, carelessly winding his way deeper into the woods as head filled with the marvellous idea of meeting the aliens he so loved. Would they have three eyes like the ones he watched in ‘Toy Story’? Or would they look more like Gamera?

No aliens await Oikawa in the dark though; what the small child had encountered instead was a small pack of strangely agitated wild boars, snorting and restless as they circled the small clearing. Startled, Oikawa had squeaked aloud before he could help himself, taking a step back as the attention of the hogs immediately snapped onto him, grunts too loud in the stillness of the night.

The child hadn’t waited for them to decide whether he was a threat, terror seizing him and flinging his legs in the other direction before the first boar could begin to charge. However, for all the adrenaline fear could supply him with, chubby human legs could not outpace those of animals, powerful and made for the chase. Oikawa could only shriek, high and scared as a hulking form rammed against his back, slamming him face-down onto damp leaves.

Before anything else could happen however, the warm weight was ripped off Oikawa, the grunts morphing into sounds of confusion at the new intruder in their midst. Half-blinded by tears, Oikawa could only make out a dark form, silhouetted against the woods behind it. A man?...too large, with limbs bent at angles too awkward to belong to a human. It turned to him as the boars began to regroup, refocusing on the looming figure.

“ _Go._ ”

A single word, low and raspy, but Oikawa obeyed instantaneously, fleeing as quickly as his legs could carry him. Branches whipped at legs and arms, and he tripped and fell into soft mud more than once, yet, Oikawa didn’t stop running until he had burst into the school’s campsite again, scratched up, muddy and hysterical.

Much later, meticulous Internet searches would convince him that the spectre that had saved him was the fabled Hibagon. While there were a few discrepancies in the general description of the creature (for one, no one could quite agree on the details of its appearance), Oikawa remained stubbornly insistent that he was saved by the legendary beast, despite the adults’ demand that he tell ‘the truth’.

“But it _is_ the truth,” Oikawa would insist, eyes brimming over with frustrated tears as he stamped his foot. “Why won’t you believe me?”

Schoolyard jeers and mocking eventually taught the young boy to keep this belief to himself. Yet, in what would eventually be recognized as Oikawa’s classic tenacity, the conviction persisted, guiding Oikawa into pursuing a major in paranormal studies. That unrelenting drive took him overseas on a scholarship to study in America, where he excelled academically and socially. The curious child had grown into a handsome man who wielded charm and words as weapons of choice at conferences and networking parties, even as he utilized all the knowledge resources the university had access to. Degree in hand, Oikawa began establishing himself as one of the most prolific researchers in cryptozoology, specializing in Asian cryptids.

When one of his professors had remarked off-handedly that it would be a waste if Oikawa didn’t further his studies, Oikawa had smiled, all charm and even teeth. The very next day, he had marched into said professor’s room and laid down a comprehensive outline for a paper on the Japanese Hibagon. The university found little to contest in the proposal, and, given the amount of public interest Oikawa had generated around the topic, eventually approved it.

When informed of his paper being green-lit, Oikawa had simply remarked that he had already arranged for the flight back to Japan weeks ago.

The university’s paranormal studies department had put him in contact with another Japanese researcher, Takeda Ittetsu, who apparently had his own team working on tracking the Hibagon as well. The news had been a triumph in its own way, the connection to others who believed in the existence of the Hibagon finally established. To top it all off, the members of Takeda’s team who were introduced to him were, for the most part, affable, if a little eccentric. Most of them, as Takeda had explained, were all over the place, tracking down other leads. But, as a sign of good faith, he would send the senior members with the newly arrived researcher.

And so, Oikawa had found himself saddled with Sawamura Daichi, Sugawara Koushi, Kageyama Tobio and Hinata Shouyo. Sawamura and Sugawara quickly established themselves and reliable and knowledgeable. The latter two, however...

“Are you sure you guys aren’t just using my search as some kind of glorified babysitting field trip?”

Sawamura had chuckled, assuring him that the pair were good at what they did. His suggestion that they map out the route the group intended to trek had distracted Oikawa from further comment.

The database of information Takeda’s team had compiled was surprisingly thorough in a way Oikawa hadn’t thought possible with the limited resources at hand. Unlike him though, none of them had ever seen the Hibagon in person. When Oikawa mentioned that he had encountered it when he was younger, Takeda’s eyes had practically sparkled.

And so, here they were, sloughing their way through the muck and greenery to the spot Oikawa had pinpointed on the map in the hopes of reproducing Oikawa’s chance encounter.

“It’s unlikely that he’ll appear in the daytime,” Sawamura mused, tapping his chin in thought.  All of Takeda’s team referred to the Hibagon with male pronouns, rather than the more generic ‘it’. Oikawa had found it odd at first, but it had been easy enough to adapt to the address. “We really should be coming back out here at night.”

Oikawa didn’t look up from where he was inspecting a few broken branches. “Mmm.”

Ushijima’s voice called from somewhere out of Oikawa’s sight. “Have you at least obtained any confirmation that your Hibagon beast is still within this vicinity in the first place? Assuming it exists, wouldn’t there be a chance it might have moved to a more favourable location?”

The characteristic bluntness that tinted Ushijima’s query put Oikawa on edge, and he sighed explosively. The problem was that the agronomist wasn’t wrong - for all the weeks they’d spent slowly making their way through the forest, their search had yielded naught thus far. Oikawa was not foolish enough to believe they would make immediate progress, but he was aware that their funding couldn’t last forever. Takeda’s research team were strangely relaxed about their failures thus far, but Oikawa couldn’t afford that sense of languidity - deadlines and the pressure to produce some sort of significant result weighed on a small corner of his mind.

Added to that, he was still very much human, and the part of him which still remembered how he had been jeered at longed fiercely to unearth the proof needed to slam the truth into the naysayers once and for all.

“Takeda-san’s wondered the same thing before. But I’m fairly sure that if he was sighted here, he’ll still be in this area.” Sawamura scratched his head absentmindedly. “Given what we know about the Hibagon, it’s highly unlikely that he’d have moved away from his ‘territory’, so to speak.”

“He’s definitely still here.” The branches showed nothing more than traces of a large animal having pushed through them, as easily a bear as it might be a mythical Japanese creature. Oikawa huffed in irritation, getting back up to his feet. “Hibagon-chan needs to stop being so smart though, ugh. I’m not asking for much - just a strand of, of _fur_ or some poop, or something.”

Laughing, Sawamura clapped him on the back. “I wish I could say you’ve been the most excited person I’ve heard talking about faeces. At least Ushijima will get his soil samples, so the afternoon’s not completely wasted.”

“That somehow makes it even worse,” Oikawa muttered, crossing his arms.

“Well, look on the bright side - we’ve finally reached the key location for our search. I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty optimistic about tonight. You said you’re sure this is the spot, right?”

“Are you questioning my instincts, Dai-chan?” Impulsively, Oikawa cast another quick look around, but nothing had changed since he last surveyed the area. The clearing no longer looked the way it did when he was a child - foliage was much denser, path clearly overgrown with brambles and roots surging from the ground as if escaping the ground. Around them, trees crept around the perimeter, curving inwards almost as if fencing the research group in.

But Oikawa was positive that this was where he first encountered the Hibagon, back when he was but a curious child. Something in his bones resonated with the landscape, and all his instincts had led him and Takeda’s research team through the twisted tracks of the forest to this particular area. Hibagon-chan was close by, and Oikawa would find him. He would settle for no less.

And when he did, before his research or any probing questions or queries, Oikawa would find some way to communicate with the creature. It seemed to at least know some basic Japanese - if it could say the word ‘go’, perhaps it would also be familiar with the phrase ‘thank you’. It was worth a shot anyway, and Oikawa owed the Hibagon a debt for the kindness he had done his childhood self.

Behind him, Sawamura was on the phone, talking quietly to either Takeda or Sugawara, likely the former. Excited chatter broke through the quiet sounds of the forest - Hinata, and by extension, Kageyama and Sugawara must be approaching. Ushijima was thankfully out of sight altogether, probably inspecting more patches of ground for collection purposes.

Oikawa exhaled, already impatient for the sun to go down. Night could not come quickly enough.

\---

With the darkening day also came the storm.

Sugawara ducked into the largest tent they had set up, his hair plastered to the sides of his face as he caught the towel Sawamura tossed to him. “Thanks. Doesn’t look like it’s letting up anytime soon. The visibility outside is practically zero, even with the torchlights.”

Hinata pouted. “I bet I’d be able to see.”

“Bet you can’t, dumbass,” Kageyama grumbled from where he’s slumped beside him.

“Could too!”

“Neither of you are venturing out anytime soon.” Sawamura’s tone was firm as large hands clamped down on two shoulders. “We’ll try again tomorrow.”

“No, we go out tonight.” Oikawa’s voice was low where he was peering out of the tent flaps. The rain was probably washing away every trace of the Hibagon they might have missed in the day, and he grimaced, features twisting in irritation.

“No, we won’t.” Sawamura responded after a surprised pause, brow furrowed.

“Fine, then _I_ go out tonight.”

“Oikawa, you can’t. The rain’s way too heavy.”

“Rain’s why umbrellas and raincoats were invented,” Oikawa hissed, frustration evident. “Can’t stand to get wet? I don’t know about you, but as fun as all this camping is, some of us are actually worried about actually turning results. Ushiwaka-chan isn’t wrong - we _must_ have something to show for all our searching soon or they’ll pull our funding. And unlike you, I’m not satisfied with wasting our time kumbaya-ing it up inside.”

Hinata’s indignant “Hey!” and Kageyama’s growl was shushed by a calming gesture from Sugawara. “Calm down; we just arrived at this spot today. Yes, the delay sucks, but it’s not as if we planned for it to happen. I promise you, we’ll all be out and ready to go first thing in the morning. And if it rains again tomorrow, we’ll forge through anyway. Sounds good?” Grey eyes met Oikawa’s, implacable and sure. “Trust me, we’re not as laidback as you think we are.”

“He’s right.” Sawamura was subdued,but his voice was no less unmovable. “You’re not the only one with a stake in this discovery, Oikawa-san. I don’t know how long you’ve been at this, but trust me, we’ve been invested in finding the Hibagon for quite a while too.”

“T’ch.” As infuriating as the whole situation was, aggravating his research companions would harm rather than benefit Oikawa in the long run. If Takeda’s team still dithered tomorrow, he would push out into the night on his own. But, for now…

”Fine, one night,” he muttered, allowing the tent flaps to fall close. There were field notes he could update in the downtime, a few observations and photos he could look through with a fine tooth comb. He could afford to waste one night.

The universe, on the other hand, did not seem to share the same sentiment.

Sometime in the middle of the night, Oikawa woke up with the overwhelming urge to pee. The previous torrent had slowed to a drizzle by then, so it wasn’t a hard call to sneak out, past the slumbering forms bunched around him, to find a nearby bush to relieve himself in.

Oikawa had just re-buttoned his fly when a light rustle caught his ear and he turned sleepily, eyes automatically looking around to pinpoint the sound’s origin. He half expected to see a squirrel darting back into the cover of the leaves, or a bird alighting on a branch.

Instead, he was greeted by the sight of black eyes set in what would be a human face, if not for the third eyelid blinking lazily atop the other two. Below it, thorny brambles grew out of bare shoulders, pushing out of soft flesh to curl around green-streaked arms, and wilted roses twined together in a wreath around a slender neck.

It wasn’t the Hibagon, but it certainly wasn’t a human either.

How long they stood frozen, Oikawa didn’t know, breath caught and held, limbs unmoving as they stared at each other. Then, the creature turned and bolted, bounding over bushes and mud as lightly as an errant breeze.

And Oikawa…

Oikawa gave chase without a second thought. Rest, research team and logic were all summarily abandoned in the face of this unexpected windfall.

Whatever the creature was, it had the advantage in terms of terrain, leaping across the uneven ground and squeezing through the breaks in the endless foliage with the ease of familiarity. But the potent combination of tenacity and excitement granted Oikawa wings, his mind solely focused on stopping the cryptid from escaping. It may not be the Hibagon, but there was no doubt in Oikawa’s mind that if he were to pin it down, whatever it was, it would lead him to the elusive beast he had been looking for.

Suddenly, all the daily jogs around the campus to keep fit were worth the effort, if only for the stamina that bolstered the rush of adrenaline pushing Oikawa’s feet onwards, close enough to the creature that he could see it in his line of sight -

The rain had made the ground swampy, soft in areas and sticky in others. For all his stubbornness, Oikawa found himself stumbling in his rush, his sleep pants stained up to his knees as he clambered and staggered across land that seemed determined to aid his quarry in escaping. Yet he pressed on, ignoring the sting of branches scoring lines along bare arms and slashing against drizzle-drenched cheeks in their whiplash, ignoring the rocks that scraped hard against knees, the roots that grappled his feet, attempting to fasten them to to ground…

On and on they ran, one fleeing, the other in pursuit. Oikawa didn’t know how much longer he could push, each breath burning red as he heaved to pull air into his lungs, still pursuing, still reaching blindly out for the figure just before him -

Then the ground abandoned his feet entirely, and Oikawa, for all his tenacity, could not deny gravity as he tumbled, bone-heavy and vulnerable flesh, down the cliff the creature had led him to.

How careless of him, he thought as he fell through the air, how _unfair._ And he had gotten so _close._

His right knee crashed into the dirt first, and darkness mercifully seized Oikawa before the pain could encompass him completely.


	2. Chapter 2

Voices; waves of sound rippled over the surface of his consciousness as Oikawa floated weightlessly somewhere within himself.

“Well, that’s the best I can do with the juice I still have. Managed to fix most of the protruding stuff and I stuffed everything back inside, but the knee’s still fractured. Not too badly, but he won’t be walking for a while.”

“Fix him all the way.” Ah, it would seem that the Hibagon _did_ indeed know more than rudimentary Japanese. Despite the impatience tempering the words, the voice was undeniably familiar, the rumbling timber the same as the first time he had heard it all those years back. Oikawa fought to open his eyes, struggled against the red haze of pain and the lassitude weighing his limbs down. But will and action, as interlinked as they were, were still two separate agendas in this detached not-awake state, and all the determination in Oikawa couldn’t push him into awakening properly.

An exasperated huff. “I’ve told you a billion times already - you know I can’t. Hell, this would have been hard even if I had been at full strength. And you know as well that the more mojo I use, the faster it drains -”

“ _Fix him_.”

“ _Fuck_ _no.”_ The reply was instantaneous, an angry growl. “I’m not going to play into your martyr tendencies and unload everything in one go, you asshole. Fuck _,_ Iwaizumi.” The Hibagon had a name? “You’re almost out of time-”

“Then have Watari move him to a nearby town or something.”

“He can’t move anyone anymore, just himself.”

“Then what are we supposed to do about this?” A heavy thud, hard near the top of Oikawa’s head. “We can’t exactly keep him here.”

“We could, temporarily if we have to.” A third voice, slow and thoughtful. “It’d be difficult, but it’s not totally impossible. I could talk to Yahaba, he should still be able to partition a set of rooms off. Then, Kunimi and I can handle him, maybe feed him some sort of story-”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I am, actually. Very serious.”

“No.”

 _“Yes_.” The second voice again, forceful this time. “This is not up for debate. Issei’s fully human already; so is Kunimi. We’ll just have them handle him for what, a month at most? This place is huge-ass; we’ll just evade around him until we can turn him out. Don’t make such a fuss.”

“Oh, yes, it’s absolutely childish of me to not want the person whom we know has been _actively_ _hunting me for ages_ stay under _my_ roof.”

“We’ll keep him far, far away from your wing, how about that.” A sigh. “Look, do you really want us to dump him back outside under a tree or something? He’s got companions, sure, and they might find him, but Kindaichi said the both of them ran pretty far away from this guy's campsite. Plus, that cliff was damn high, and it might be awhile before they consider climbing down anytime soon in their search. By that time… well, let’s just say it doesn’t bode well for this guy’s survival rate.”

“...I hate this, just so you know.” A disgruntled huff, a clear sign of surrender. “Someone remind Kindaichi to be a little more careful please? Kyoutani as well. I don’t want to restrict them, but we really can’t risk anyone else stumbling into this now.”

“Roger that. Poor guy - s’hard to blame him; he’s still getting used to things. I guess he thought that the rain earlier would be a good enough cover; people don’t generally go out in storms that heavy.”

Iwaizumi exhaled, long and heavy. “On one hand, it’s not his fault. Still...just to play it safe, a little closer to home might spare us further trouble. In the meantime, I guess we might as well go with Matsukawa’s plan and hope for the best.” He chuckled, a humorless sound. “Hell, maybe it’ll end before he even leaves-”

The room shuddered, as if something (someone?) was slammed up against its wall. “Don’t joke about that shit,” the second speaker snarled. “Don’t you _fucking_ dare-”

“Hiro-” The third voice, alarmed.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” The second person repeated, quieter but no less furious. “Fuck being human, I’ll hunt down one of those shaman people and ask them to work some voodoo shit to bring you back just so I can kill you myself.”

Iwaizumi laughed, a little lighter than before. “Heh, I’ll hold you to that.” The three of them lapsed into silence before Iwaizumi spoke again. “Well, he’s your problem now. You know where to find me.”

“Yeah, same place as usual?”

“Damn straight. Try not to let him catch sight of the others, Matsukawa.”

“Gotcha.”

Oikawa wanted to protest, wanted to reach out and grab ‘Iwaizumi’ before he left the space they all seemed to be inhabiting, wants to verify that this was not a dream born of wishful thinking, that the Hibagon was indeed real -

But his body had clearly decided that it had been more than generous enough for the time being. The drop back into unconsciousness was inexorable, and darkness pulled him back down as easily as it had let him up.

\---

Consciousness, when it finally came in its entirety, washed over Oikawa gently and he groaned, stirring sluggishly beneath sheets so soft, he was half inclined to believe he was still asleep.

“You awake already?”

The voice was unfamiliar, and the realization that earth and travel sleeping bags were not actually supposed to be as luxurious as the comfort that swaddled him jolted Oikawa’s mind awake abruptly. Instincts finally flaring up with the surge of panic, he shot upright, staring around him wildly as his limbs scrambled to scoot him into a defensible corner. Almost immediately, a flare of pain shot up his leg, travelling from his knee upwards and Oikawa hissed at the unexpected agony, clutching at… something hard?

Blinking dumbly at where the juncture of his knee was encased in plaster, Oikawa stared down at the rest of himself, which appeared to be wearing a nightgown reminiscent of his older sister’s typical pyjamas. Then, he dragged his bewildered gaze across his surroundings. The room he was in was large, but simply decorated, with minimal fuss and furniture. The most ostentatious thing in the space was the bed, which was old-fashioned enough to be mounted with an ornate headboard that pressed indents into Oikawa’s back where he had crowded himself against it.

Just beyond the bottom of the bed was a narrow face, peering at Oikawa with what was possibly the most unimpressed expression he had seen in ages. (Which, Oikawa had to admit, was remarkable, considering how often he had been subjected to Ushijima’s face for the past week or so.)

“What exactly are you doing?”

“Get back!” Oikawa’s voice was shrill, and he drew himself into as intimidating a stance as he could, even with his bum knee stretched before him. “I know martial arts!”

The man looked even less impressed. “I bet you don’t.”

“Try me.”

“It’s ok, Kunimi.” The lazy drawl tickled at Oikawa’s mind, the wisp of a memory vaguely remembered as another taller man stepped up behind the first stranger. “I’ve got this.”

As Kunimi shrugged and got up to leave, Stranger Number Two lifted his hand in greeting, wriggling his fingers. “Yo. S’about time you woke up. What’s your name, and what do you remember?”

Oikawa narrowed his eyes. “I could ask the same of you, actually.”

The man shrugged. “Fair enough. I’m Matsukawa Issei.” Another nudge at a memory just out of reach, but Oikawa was too distracted to pay it any mind. “I remember quite a lot, actually - my age, my favorite foods - the works, given I wasn’t the one who decided it would be fun to jump off a cliff in the middle of nowhere. Which, by the way, is what we’d commonly consider ‘suicidal’ and highly inadvisable. Do they still teach kids common sense these days?”

“It’s not - I wasn’t - I didn’t _jump_ off a cliff!”

“Oh? My mistake - you merely rolled down it. Still suicidal though.”

Oikawa squashed down the burgeoning need to argue his case; there were more pressing issues at hand as it was. “Where exactly is this place?”

“Ah, ah, fair is fair. I’ve answered my own question; it’s only polite that you return the courtesy.”

“I’m…” If there was anything Oikawa remembered of safety in general, it was that giving one’s real name to suspicious strangers was highly inadvisable. “Ushijima. Ushijima Wakatoshi.”

A raised eyebrow, slow and evaluating. “Ushijima-san…huh.”

“You got a problem with that?”

“No, I suppose not. Ok, Ushijima-san, what do you last recall?”

“Last I remember, I was chasing…” A brief pause, but as sure as Oikawa was that he had seen a non-human creature, he was equally certain he didn’t want to share this knowledge with Matsukawa just yet. Screw tiny feelings of doubts, all his mental alarms were practically shrieking that something was definitely off about this whole situation. “A deer.”

Matsukawa’s face was inscrutable in its bland interest, arms folded across his chest. “A deer?”

“Yeah.” Oikawa met Matsukawa’s eyes evenly, willing himself not to blink. “And I didn’t jump - I _tripped_ and accidentally _fell_ off what must be that cliff you mentioned.”

“That must have truly been a particularly spectacular specimen of deer that it could distract you so thoroughly.”

“The most magnificent I had ever seen, actually. Now, where is this place?”

“Ah.” Matsukawa’s grin was small and lazy. “You’re at my place. My forest vacation home, to be more specific.”

“Your… forest vacation home.” Oikawa’s tone was flat, dripping with disbelief and skepticism.

Matsukawa hummed. “Yup, pretty much. We - my friends and I - come up here during the fall when we need a bit of a break away from the city. Now, I believe it’s my turn in this Twenty Questions thing we’ve got going - how do you feel?”

“...Decent enough.” More than decent actually - with the exception of his knee, he barely even ached. The areas of his arms and legs that he could see were not even bruised, skin unmarred and unbroken in the sunlight that streamed through the window. Even the light scratches he had sustained from earlier in the week seemed to have healed themselves overnight.

“Well, looks like you got lucky, so to speak.” Matsukawa didn’t offer anything further, the grin more unsettling than cheerful now. Oikawa shoved the nagging feeling of unease back down savagely, determined to not let it show in his face.

“Yup~ that’s me! King of luck and all, haha.” Carefully, he slid his way to the edge of the bed, balancing on his one good foot as he got up. “Anyway, thank you for rescuing me and, ah, for your hospitality. But I’ve got to get back to my research team; they’ll be worried, after how long I must be missing - ”

Matsukawa merely lifted an eyebrow, making no move towards where Oikawa was determinedly hobbling towards the door. “Oh? You planning to climb with that knee?”

“I’ll manage,” Oikawa said tersely. “If I could have my clothes back please - maybe borrow a walking stick or umbrella, anything crutch-like would be good -”

“I’m afraid I can’t allow that, Oikawa-san.” The words, said in the same good-natured drawl as everything the other man had said thus far, speared through Oikawa, freezing him to the spot. _Shit, he knows I’ve been lying_. “Trust me, I’ve seen that knee, and you aren’t going to be able to make it down the stairs easy, much less scale the side of a cliff.”

“You can’t stop me.”

“Technically, I could.” Matsukawa shrugged. “Lock the doors, close the windows, et cetera, et cetera. But I don’t think I’ll have to do that, will I?”

“You bastard _.”_ Sweat was already beading at Oikawa’s temple as he strove to get to towards where the door was, each step feeling as if he were struggling against a great force insistent on dragging him back to where the bed was waiting. It shouldn’t be this difficult - the knee hampered his progress, but Oikawa had injured his leg before. The injury he had sustained shouldn’t have crippled him to this extent that every movement felt as if he were swimming through molasses. “You _bastard_. What did you do to me?”

“Nothing you didn’t do to yourself first.” The grip on Oikawa’s shoulder wasn’t overly hard, but unmovable and when had Matsukawa moved behind him? “C’mon, don’t make this harder on yourself.”

“What the fuck,” Oikawa slurred, the edge of panic already dulling with the fatigue that clouded his senses. “This is fucking kidnapping.”

He distantly registered Matsukawa’s chuckle as he lifted Oikawa bodily and carried him back towards the pile of blankets. “If that’s how you choose to see it, consider yourself kidnapped until that knee heals enough for you to actually use it.”

Good God, this was like the plot to those shitty C-grade horror movies Hinata sometimes streamed on his laptop. Which was bad, because Oikawa was clearly cast in the role of the character who usually died ten minutes into the plot. “I need to - need to call-”

The others had better be looking for him, he thought before sleep pulled him back under its spell. Hell, he’d accept even Ushijima discovering where he was right about now.

Hopefully while he was alive.

\---

“Has anyone ever told you you’re pretty much a drama queen?”

Oikawa sniffed, as he took another healthy bite of his onigiri. “Please, I was the textbook example of calm in an unknown situation.”

“‘Textbook example of calm’, huh?”

“Well, I’d like to see how you’d do any better if you were the one waking up in a complete stranger’s house and then prevented from leaving.”

“I’d probably punch my way out,” Kunimi offered where he was finishing his own meal.

“See?” Oikawa gestured triumphantly as Matsukawa rolled his eyes. “My point exactly! Honestly, Mattsun, your self-presentation had ‘creepy villain asshole’ practically written all over you. You’ve got to work on that bedside manner if you want people to trust you.”

“First of all, I wasn’t ‘preventing you from leaving’; if you had stopped with the theatrics, I could have told you that the sedation from the painkillers you were on takes time to wear off. Also, what’s all this about trust - I wasn’t the one lying his ass off to his rescuer.”

Oikawa shrugged. “Unknown situation, stranger danger. Again, you really need lot of work on your bedside manner.”

“Remind me why I haven’t ejected you off my property yet?”

“Because you can’t.” Oikawa blew an exaggerated kiss at Matsukawa, smirking as he made a gagging noise. It was surprisingly easy to get along with the other man and the other occupants in the modestly sized house, once matters had been sorted and explained thoroughly.

When Oikawa had woken up the second time, Matsukawa had been seated beside his bedside, arms folded.  

“Ok, let’s try this again. Hi, I’m Matsukawa Issei. I own this place; you’re currently in one of our guestrooms. For your information, we didn’t exactly ask to run across you either, y’know - wasn’t exactly the most fun way to start our day either. You want out of here? Guess what, we want you out too. Hell, if I thought getting you back over that cliff would work, I’d push you up there myself. But here’s the thing - you’re injured, and there’s no way I can be sure the people you said you’re with will definitely find you before the local wildlife does. And before you ask,” Matsukawa lifted a single finger, “no, we don’t exactly get reception out here. So, there are no phones, no laptops, no wifi, unfortunately. We don’t care about them much - escape to nature, disconnecting from work and the stresses of life yadda, yadda, yadda. That’s the way we like it, even if it does make things a bit inconvenient during times like these.”

“The minute you think you can handle trekking outside again, by all means, go with our blessing. The sooner, the better, really. But until then, I’m afraid you’re subjected to our compassion and tender care.” He crossed his arms, leaning back as Oikawa gawked. “Any questions?”

“...How did you know who I was?”

“Magazines articles and newspaper publications. We don’t exactly live out here all year round, y’know.” Sleepy-looking eyes studied him shrewdly. “You are a surprisingly public figure for what is usually considered a very obscure study field.”

Ah. Oikawa couldn’t refute that - he _had_ appeared in a number of television documentaries and done a couple of interviews for both the American and Japanese media, all of them strategic moves calculated to garner the support necessary to command the funding he needed. Instead, he pulled a face. “Do you really not have the Internet, or a telephone connection here? What are you: an actual heathen?”

Matsukawa had snorted, and things had improved rapidly since then.

Some small things still didn’t quite add up - this residence being a ‘vacation home’, for example. The strange way his body had seemingly healed itself of all small injuries, even if he had been ‘out for several days’ as Matsukawa had put it. The inexplicable sense of deja vu Matsukawa’s own first name evoked, his voice curling around a tendril of a memory just out of Oikawa’s grasp. The number of ‘spare’ clothing there was at hand in a house with only two ‘autumn’ residents. How there had conveniently been crutches and wheelchairs at hand in a place that didn’t seem to have any proper first aid supplies.

Yet there had been a sense of sincerity when Matsukawa had delivered his surprisingly long spiel, and Oikawa considered himself a fairly perceptive judge of character (when calm anyway). Whatever Matsukawa was hiding, he didn’t appear to harbor ill will towards Oikawa, at least for now. And, considering that Oikawa was dependent on Matsukawa’s good will until he was able to use his knee again, it seemed prudent not to press some issues too hard just yet.

Still, at Oikawa’s insistence, Kunimi and Matsukawa regularly checked the woods around the compound for signs of Sawamura and company having passed through the area. Matsukawa had agreed to the request without much argument, even though he reasoned that it was highly unlikely that they would spot the house. It seemed like a fair assessment; what little Oikawa had been able to see of the outside when he had taken the liberty to hobble his way to the garden was dense trees and greenery, packed in tightly beside each other as if concealing the house itself.

Matsukawa had shrugged off Oikawa’s incredulous questions as to how he had managed to find his way into such a secluded area of forest, much less build a residence here. Yet another thing that didn’t quite make complete sense, and another puzzle piece that didn’t fit in the picture Oikawa was trying to compile of this whole affair.

For now though, figuring how all these pieced together was tucked away in a corner of Oikawa’s consciousness as he finished off his onigiri, noting with no little regret that his plate was empty. Beside him, a man with short hair that valiantly defied gravity got to his feet. “You done with that, Oikawa-san?”

“Yes, please. Thanks, Kin-chan.” Oikawa managed to keep himself from staring too hard at the other boy this time around when he stood up, taking Oikawa’s plate with him to the sink. While he remembered almost nothing of his tumble, the image of the creature that had led him to fall in the first place was branded into his mind, including all the fine details that had marked it as supernatural.

Unless his memory was failing him (and Oikawa was sure it wasn’t just yet),  the creature had looked exactly like Kindaichi. Only, Kindaichi didn’t have three eyes, merely one pair of brown ones that blinked nervously every time Oikawa scrutinized him. Also, there were no brambles or roses on his person at all, much less piercing through his skin.

Matsukawa chuckled. “Careful, Oikawa, you’ll end up creeping poor Kindaichi out again.”

“I can’t help it - he really does have an uncanny resemblance to my nephew,” Oikawa lied smoothly as he redirected his attention back to the table. “I would take a photo to show to Takeru when I get back, but...well. No tech devices, et cetera. Honestly, I still don’t get why you guys don’t want to invest in at least a desktop to keep here.”

“See, this is why our generation needs a break from all those smart devices. It’s an addiction, I tell you.”

“No, seriously, not even a phone? That’s pushing it a bit far - what if an emergency happened?”

“Yeah, yeah, maybe we’ll consider it for next year, how about that. You planning to camp in the library again?”

“Obviously.” Oikawa laboriously pushed himself to his feet, grabbing the crutches. “It’s your house’s only saving grace.”

“Wow, look at all those good manners your mother ingrained into you, you ingrate.”

For such a modest residence, Matsukawa’s library was surprisingly large, boasting wooden shelving that climbed towards the high ceiling. On said shelves were a variety of books, neatly divided by genre. Most importantly, to Oikawa’s utter delight, it also had a dedicated section to paranormal and supernatural texts, some of which the researcher hadn’t never seen before.

“Why would you keep these many books in a vacation home?” Oikawa had demanded breathlessly, five different books clutched to his chest as he glared at Matsukawa when the latter had dropped in to check on him. “Exposing these to mildew and moths - these deserve _better._ ”

“Ah, a friend’s an avid collector, and he ran out of space at his place.” Matsukawa had laughed at Oikawa’s excitement. “He’d be pleased to know you’re worried about his stuff, but don’t worry - those books are safe where they are. No worries of mildew or, ah, moths at all. Oh, I see you found the -”

“ _Mysterious creatures: a guide to cryptozoology_ ? Or are you referring to the _Encyclopedia of Sasquatch, Yeti and Cryptid Primates?_ Or _'Paranormal Science 'from America to -”_

“Right, those.” Matsukawa had begun backing out of the room slowly. “I’ll just leave you to it, shall I?”

The only thing that surprised Oikawa more than the size of the library was the variety of texts. As a cryptozoologist, Oikawa had his own collection of books - no mean feat to gather, given their rarity and prices. Upon his return to Japan, he had ensured the books came back with him, setting up his own tiny library corner in his apartment.The selection in Matsukawa’s house easily trumped his collection, which must have been a laborious effort to amass. Which implied that, whoever he was, Matsukawa’s ‘friend’ must share the same interests as Oikawa himself.

When Oikawa had asked if he could meet said friend, Matsukawa had grimaced apologetically, saying something about him ‘being out of Japan at the moment’. A waste of a good mind to pick through, and Oikawa intended to get that contact from Matsukawa once he had access to working technology again.

In the meantime, he started recording down all the information the books could provide him on the Hibagon, filing the pieces of knowledge within the space in his mind not occupied by wariness and that nagging sense of something being very wrong.

\---

An observation on the nature of strange, inexplicable secrets: more often than not, despite how tightly you hold onto them, they have a way of slipping out into the open.

Thus, it was perhaps inevitable that Oikawa’s instincts were eventually proven right, one week into his stay at Matsukawa’s place.

Halfway through his nightly routine before bed, a particularly pertinent snippet of information regarding Japanese folklore connected itself to another piece of knowledge Oikawa was pondering about regarding the Hibagon’s preferences for mountainous areas. Pausing in the midst of brushing his teeth, Oikawa groaned around the foam in his mouth at the realization that he had left his research materials in the nook he usually sat in within the library. He toyed briefly with the idea of waiting until the next morning, but Oikawa didn’t become the cryptozoologist he was through indolence. Grumbling slightly, he reached for his crutches and began making his way over to the library.

One piece of information became a whole network of connected possibilities, and it was a little past midnight by the time Oikawa stumbled back out of the library towards his bedroom. Lethargy caused him to accidentally overexerted his reach on one swing of his crutches, sending a splintering pain up his knee where he bumped his leg against the floor. Gasping, he leant heavily against a section of wall as he caught his breath, sinking to the ground as hands gripped the crutches close with a white-knuckled grip.

Pressed against the wall and half-hidden by shadows, it was easy to overlook Oikawa if one were in a rush. And the form darting past him was certainly in a hurry, almost full-on running towards where a large arched window broke the monotony of concrete and paint. With its almost floor-to-ceiling height, it boasted a magnificent view of the forest outside. At night, it allowed the moonlight to filter in, soft and pale, bright enough to illuminate the hallway just inside its frame.

Bright enough to illuminate the brambles that grew out of Kindaichi’s shoulders and down his back.

Oikawa stared, pain forgotten as he gaped at the thorns and briars protruding cruelly through almost translucent flesh. His breath, caught within his lungs, must have made a sound because Kindaichi spun, startled, and ah, Oikawa thought faintly, there is that third eye again.

“You can run away if you’d like, Kin-chan.” His voice came out deceptively soft, carrying nonetheless in the stillness. “But please don’t underestimate my intelligence. And I’m not going to conveniently roll down a cliff for you to claim my memory is faulty this time.”

Kindaichi opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again as all his eyes blinked rapidly. His limbs remained frozen in place, even as buds pushed themselves up through the brambles. Orange osmanthus, bright and beautiful, blossomed rapidly before withering away just as quickly as they had bloomed.

“For the love of god, Kindaichi.” Matsukawa’s voice floated up the staircase at the end of the hallway, followed by its owner as he sighed, massaging his temples. “Couldn’t you - no, of course not. No, no, I get it,” holding up a hand as Kindaichi made as if to speak again, “It’s ok, I understand. I’ll handle this. Go recharge.”

“Sorry, senpai.” The tall head ducked at almost ninety degrees, before Kindaichi turned and fled the muted tension choking up the hallway. Oikawa kept his eye on Matsukawa as the other man approached, very much human-looking. He stopped the shy of the crutch Oikawa had thrusted out in his direction, raising an eyebrow.

“Really?”

“Ah sorry, I can’t help it. Self-preservation instincts, you know, still very much a thing in all living beings.” Oikawa kept the crutch steady, muscles bunched tight beneath his skin as he pushed himself up into a more defensible position. His knee may have rendered his right leg useless, making any real self-defense moves moot, but fear and adrenaline were powerful motivators in their own right. And, in that moment, Oikawa had plenty of both. “It’s what’s enabled humans to evolve and survive through history, after all. Though I can’t imagine what Kin-chan might have had to survive through to look quite like that.”

Matsukawa’s second eyebrow rose to join the first, hands tucking themselves loosely into his pyjama pants pockets. “Wait, are you implying that Kindaichi is some sort of _evolved_ human?”

Oikawa shrugged as casually as he dared. “ That, or an extremely skilled prosthetics crafter, for all I know. Hollywood-level, if Kin-chan’s little display was anything to go by.” Which would be the most logical conclusion for all this madness; special effects was a field  that was developing extensively, enough so that maybe, just maybe, some parts of that tableau might be rationally explained away. But Kindaichi would have no reason to have them displayed in the middle of the night. And as far as he could tell, no amount of effects could explain the accelerated botanical show Kindaichi had unconsciously demonstrated.

 _Mutants,_ his mind whispered. Just thirty minutes ago, the X-Men had been a comic series, not an actual possible reality. Oikawa furiously swallowed  down the edge of terror that were encroaching on the edge of his calm.

Matsukawa sighed again, still looking looked maddeningly, terrifyingly normal as he scratched at his head. “Oh boy. I didn’t want to go down that cliched road of saying ‘I can explain everything’, but I suppose technically, I am capable of, well, explaining everything.” Sleepy-looking eyes met Oikawa’s levelly. “How much of it you’d accept, on the other hand...ugh, talk about a mess. This wasn’t supposed to happen, damn it. I don’t know what I should and shouldn’t tell you.”

“How about everything?”

“Are you going to put down the crutch at least?”

“Not a chance in hell.”

“Fair enough.” Matsukawa lowered himself down into a sitting position, face scrunched in a thinking expression as he muttered to himself. “Huh, I guess we might as well start there.” Raising his voice, he called, “Oi, Makki, get your ass out here.”

The name tickled Oikawa’s memory, but he was too distracted listening for the sounds of another person approaching, crutch as steady as a rifle before him.

“Fucking hell, Mattsun,” a voice grumbled from behind the researcher, causing him to startle, swinging his crutch around wildly. “Couldn’t even keep a lid on it for a few weeks?”

“Not my fault,” Matsukawa countered easily as Oikawa stared, eyes widening even further. The newcomer hadn’t made a sound approaching because how could he, floating just a few inches off the ground? “Go yell at Kindaichi.”

“Damn, you know he feels bad enough already. He’s not going to need me going to heap more guilt on top of his head.” ‘Makki’ grinned, almost shark-like at Oikawa’s expression. “Hey, I’m Hanamaki, nice to meet you awake. Only it’s not that nice; I’d rather not have met you at all, to be honest. And before you ask, please, I’m not plebe enough to be a mere ghost. I just have a severe aversion to walking, is all.”

“He flies.” Matsukawa brushed off Hanamaki’s snort. “It’s kind of his thing.”

“Flying is...his thing,” Oikawa repeated dumbly.

“Well, one of them. Not even his major skill - that’s his healing schtick. But it’s the most visible. No, he’s not rigged, there’s no special effects and I definitely didn’t drug your dinner, that’s just rude.”

“I’d offer to do a somersault in the air for you, but I’m supposed to be slowly weaning off the high.” Hanamaki drifted closer, pushing the crutch aside as he peered at the cast. “How’s the knee doing, by the way? I’ve been giving instructions to Kunimi, but you probably already know he’s not necessarily the best caretaker at times.”

“What the _fuck_ -” Oikawa rammed the crutch at Hanamaki. The other man merely laughed, dodging the swipe easily as he sailed backwards. “-are you?”

“Oh man, I’m going to miss this so much.” Hanamaki did a little twirl, and the dim lights in the hallway glinted off four wings, dragonfly-like, growing from his back. “Gravity sucks. To answer your question, Oikawa Tooru, I’m _magic_.”

“You and your dramatics.” Matsukawa sounded fond despite the dry words.

“You love it.”

“I do, unfortunately.” Matsukawa shook his head, before glancing back at Oikawa. “To put what Hanamaki said into context, he, we aren’t magic per se. But I suppose you could consider us ‘magical’, in the purest sense of the word.”

“Like…‘Sailormoon’ magical?”

A brief silence. “Well, that’s a first. But yes and no, I suppose. C’mon, I know you pretty much don’t trust us _again_ , and I can’t blame you this time either, but some chairs and a table might be a more comfortable place to talk this over than the floor, right?”

“You’ll stay -”

“Yeah, yeah.” Matsukawa’s smile flashed white in the moonlight. “We’ll stay five feet away from you or something. Not that it’d help really, but if it helps you feel better and all. Makki, would you mind fetching the others? They might be glad for the chance to finally stop skulking around.”

\---

“So, let me get this straight.” Oikawa rubbed at his temples, feeling a headache build even as his mind attempted to sort through the load of information it had been unexpectedly fed. “You guys are some kinds of magical beings. Who can perform actual magic.”

“Impressive,” Kunimi deadpanned. Hanamaki smacked him lightly over the head.

“And...you guys are the only magical beings left? There are no more of your type left in the world?”

“Sounds about right, yep,” Matsukawa affirmed, long fingers curled around a mug of coffee. “And there won’t be any more like us soon, that much I can promise you.”

“You’re coping really well, actually,” one of the strangers Hanamaki had coaxed into the room ventured, his mouth a chip within a face that was literally stone, “for someone who just learnt of all this in an hour.”

Oikawa laughed humorlessly. “I’m still half inclined to believe that if I look under the table, I’ll find a hidden-camera and a sudden ‘you got pranked’ announcement, complete with streamers and obnoxious horns.”

A derisive snort, from a man-wolf hybrid this time. “You sure this guy’s smart? Seems pretty fucking dumb to me.”

“Manners, Kyoutani.” Hanamaki’s hand landed on the back of the furry head, with considerably more force than the slap he gave Kunimi. “What did I say about getting used to actually using them before you need to go blend with normal society?”

Another being, more liquid than human grimaced, his mouth shifting into different shapes as fluidly as water. “Good going, idiot.”

Kyoutani bristled, fangs lengthening threateningly. “He’s trying to deny our existence and _I’m_ the ‘rude asshole’ here?”

“Hey now,” Stone Guy tried to intervene, “Iwaizumi-senpai said we shouldn’t fight-”

A clawed fist pounded into the table in front of Oikawa, digging into the thick wood as Kyoutani snarled at the researcher, irises glowing red. “Don’t think we’re real? Fucking get used to it; we’re probably realer than your fucking friends right now, who’ve probably given up looking for your sorry ass.”

“Kyoutani,” Matsukawa sighed, “sit the fuck back down please.” A second, two and the tableau remained frozen. “Yahaba, if you would.”

Gliding forward, the water man (a naiad?) pulled the still-growling Kyoutani back into the corner they had been standing in, grumbling something about stupid, impulsive animals. Kyoutani’s claws slashed through his midsection, and Yahaba rolled his eyes, muttering something that only the hybrid could hear.

Kindaichi jumped up, pushing his chair back. “I could grow a rose from the table, or push thorns through my skin again if Oikawa-san needs further convincing; I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to gather enough energy -”

Oikawa held a hand up, forestalling him. “No need for you to spoil this perfectly lovely table further - I’ve seen more than enough of that for now.” The other man looked normal again, extra eye and brambles gone, looking as innocuous as a random Japanese teenager. But Oikawa knew much, much better now. “Also, Kyou-chan, seriously. Breath mints, do invest in them. Wolf or not, there is no excuse for that breath, ewwww.”

“Oooh damn.” Hanamaki whistled, his mouth stretching into a wide grin. Even Kunimi looked begrudgingly amused. “That burn.”

“While I’m on that,” Oikawa nodded at Hanamaki. “I’m not sure what the protocol is, or if there’s some kind of compensation I need to repay in the tradition of your kind, but thank you for my leg. I assume it was you, right? Healing power and all.”

Hanamaki gestured graciously, smile breezy. “Yeah, all mine. Not just the leg too - you were pretty much half-dead by the time you were brought in. Protruding bones, mashed organs, the works - you didn’t do things by half, let me tell you that. But don’t worry about it; we accept sincere thank-yous as currency.”

“So I’m not going to have to give you my first born or anything of the sort, right?”

“Uh, what the hell would I even do with your first born?” Hanamaki pulled a face. “No thanks.”

“Watari’s right,” Yahaba remarked. “You really are taking this well.”

“You forget, you’re talking to a scholar hell-bent on proving the Hibagon exists.” Oikawa shrugged expansively, leaning back in his seat. “All you guys are proving with all this is that my research is completely and totally valid. Between Wolf-boy over there, flying healers and people with more than enough eyes, who’s to say a Hibagon isn’t out there? Plus, given that I’m still stuck here for a couple of weeks, that gives me plenty of time to observe you guys as well, maybe take some notes on your conditions. So really, I owe you lot a favor.”

“There’s no Hibagon-”

“There’s definitely no other magic people we aren’t aware of-”

“I’m not a _wolf-boy,_ you fucker _-_ ”

“Are you planning to study _us_?” This last bit from a worried-looking Watari.

“He’s not,” Matsukawa interrupted the sudden cacophony, voice firm. “Going to study us. At least, not in any official capacity. You’re not,” he added to Oikawa. “No offence, but if it’s not obvious by now, we clearly thrive on secrecy. Besides, by the time you finish that paper with all your citations, all your proof will be gone.”

Oikawa hesitated. “How can you be so sure about that?”

Matsukawa’s expression was unreadable as he took a long pull from his mug. “I said earlier that there isn’t going to be any more of us, remember? We...well, let’s just say we’re losing our magic.”

“...Losing your magic. That can actually happen?”

“It’s a long story, and not one I want to explain at ass-o-clock in the morning. But yes, Oikawa Tooru, we are losing it. Not terribly fast, nor particularly steadily as you can see from Kindaichi over there, but it’s draining from all of us. Eventually, we’ll be completely tapped out.”

“What happens then? Do you…”Oikawa winced, scrabbling around for a softer, less harsh word. “Pass away?”

“Nah,” Kunimi spoke up unexpectedly. “We just become human. I’ve been human for a while now. Matsukawa-senpai too.”

“My limbs used to be trees,” Kindaichi offered quietly. “Formed of wood, and leaves and such. Now, all I have is my…” A quick, shamefaced gesture at his forehead and shoulders. “Of all of us, my appearance is the least stable at the moment, so it comes and goes. But I’m slowly approaching pure humanity.”

“I’m still steeling myself for the day I lose my flying.” Hanamaki grimaced. “Gonna hate it, but well, you’ve got to roll with the punches and everything. You’re actually using my crutches - why else would we have them lying around?”

“That…” made sense, Oikawa realized, looking down at where the plastic contraptions were leaning against the table. Matsukawa hummed.

“Do you have anything else you’d like to ask?

He really shouldn’t, Oikawa knew. It had already been a night loaded with too-much in too-short a time, and yet...“There is at least one more of you, right? Watari-san mentioned an ‘Iwaizumi-senpai’. And from all the names being balled around tonight, none of you have responded to that particular name. Where is he?”

Everyone exchanged loaded looks, even Kyoutani. Only Hanamaki and Matsukawa remained unfazed. “Ah, that is non-negotiable, I’m afraid. Iwaizumi is absolutely off-limits, and he hates being disturbed.” Matsukawa glanced at Hanamaki. “It took a lot of convincing on our part to even get him to let you convalesce here.”

“He’s so totally gonna kill us for this heart-to-heart tonight,” Hanamaki muttered. “Rip our fucking heads off. Not literally,” he amended hastily at Oikawa’s wide-eye stare, “He just has very strong feelings about...uh, accidental revelations.”

Kindaichi winced, ducking his head. “Sorry, senpai.”

“Nah, not your fault, kid. The transition’s been hard on you lately. He’s gonna nag either way anyway; it’s his favourite past-time, after all.”

“So...this ‘Iwaizumi-san’,” Oikawa guessed, “is in worse shape than all of you.”

Matsukawa’s eyes glittered, even in the dim lighting. “Yes, I suppose you could say that.”


	3. Chapter 3

The ‘Great Revelation’, as Oikawa liked to call it, came with a number of perks. For one, with the need to stay hidden gone, the other occupants of the house no longer kept out of sight, moving freely around the living space that no longer seemed overly large or empty. Despite Hanamaki’s constant nagging to rest his leg properly and the effort of having to drag himself up staircases and along too-long hallways, Oikawa’’s curiosity still had him hobbling around the place, eager to observe the other inhabitants of this strange dwelling. Gone was his interest in books; why resort to pages and texts when there were living, breathing manifestations of magic all around him?

He soon learnt to avoid large puddles of water in case they were Yahaba. He became used to the sight of Kyoutani napping in spots of sunlight, tail curled close; of Watari patiently swallowing rocks and soil at mealtimes; of Hanamaki idly floating around, feet skimming the surfaces of the polished floors but never touching them.

“You’ve literally never stepped foot on the ground before?” Oikawa had asked the other once.

“No~ope.” Hanamaki bit into an apple as he floated idly around the kitchen. “The general belief is that the ground neutralizes our affinity, but we aren’t really sure and back then, no one wanted to risk it actually being true. Supposedly one of my sisters gave up her magic that way for some human politician, but she never came back after her elopement for us to confirm it. Which, by the way, rude.”

“Your sister, huh? So there are a lot more of you?”

Hanamaki’s mouth twitched ruefully. “Damn, didn’t mean to give that away. But yeah, you could say that. Past tense now though. Gonna jot that down in your Book too?”

The ‘Book’, as the others had taken to calling it, housed all of Oikawa’s fervent and hastily scribbled notes on his new companions. It was a fairly thick volume, ring-bound and simple. Matsukawa had handed it to the researcher one morning after breakfast, along with a couple of ballpoint pens.

“Seems like you could use it,” was his only reply to Oikawa’s surprised thanks. “Just remember: you can collect, but all the information’s not gonna to stay valid.”

Oikawa had immediately started using it, filling up a good portion of the book by the end of the day. And, to the dismay of some, he kept at it with a dogged persistence.

“Besides, what if, through my incredibly detailed observations and progress tracking - don’t snort, Kunimi, I heard that - I _uncover_ the source of your power drainage?” Oikawa spreaded his arms dramatically. “No need to thank me then - the permission to publish my work would be sufficient compensation.”

Kyoutani’s groan was long-suffering, a small thud the only indication that he had knocked his head against the table. “Are you sure I can’t disembowel him?”

“Hanamaki-senpai will kill you for wasting all his hard work on Oikawa-san.” Yahaba was sitting by the window, arms looking surprisingly solid given his nature. “And Oikawa-san, while that would be wonderful, we kind of already know why our powers are draining. So, uh, I don’t think that’d be the best negotiation block to use.”

“You guys know why you’re losing your magic?” Oikawa looked up with a frown, his pen pausing where it was scrawling _‘some kind of illusion magic - scope and capabilities?’_ in the section of the Book he reserved for notes on Yahaba. “And you aren’t doing anything about it?”

“It’s…” Yahaba looked conflicted. “It’s for the best.” Springing up from his seat, he darted towards the door, throwing it open rather than simply oozing under it. Kyoutani, strangely enough, didn’t cuss the other man out, or even belittle him; rather, he immediately got up as well, loping after where Yahaba had disappeared. Another entry for the Book, even if this particular episode was stained with a slight twinge of guilt from Oikawa’s conscience.

“How did so many of you manage to stay out of sight for as long as you did?” Oikawa badgered Watari the next time he ran into the other being in the corridor.

“We’re… really good at it?” Watari shifted uncomfortably; for a man made of rock, he was really rather expressive.

“Oh,” Oikawa pondered this for a moment. “Do all of you share a common survival instinct that prioritizes remaining inconspicuous? Or is it simply an evolutionary drive in some of you? Say, Kunimi, for instance?”

“Uh, there’s something I need to do. Dishes, or… something…”

Oikawa very kindly didn’t point out that Watari had been banned from any form of kitchen cleaning after he broke what was apparently Matsukawa’s favourite coffeepot.

If the cryptozoologist had favorites, Kindaichi definitely was one of them, eager to offer and fill in bits of information where he could, always with an earnest expression on his face. Privately, Oikawa wondered if it was because Kindaichi had been the primary cause of the accidental discovery, but was wise enough to keep his suspicions to himself.

“So you are,” Oikawa racked his memory for any recollection of similar creatures tucked away in the pages of compendiums and encyclopedias of myth. “A… forest nymph? A spirit?”

“In a way, I guess?” The two of them were out soaking up the late sunshine in the garden, Oikawa’s casted leg carefully propped up on a stool Kindaichi had thoughtfully brought out of the house with them. “I’ve never had to really think about what I was, uh, categorized as. I’m just a… forest person? I protect the forest, and it protects me.”

“So, sort of like a ranger then? Like Aragorn?”

“A… what?”

“Nevermind.” Oikawa scribbled _‘forest being? hamadryad?_ ’ beside a sketch of Kindaichi’s back in full bloom, paused, then added ‘not well versed with popular culture? Isolated?’ in the margin. Humming, he tapped his pen against the edges of the notebook before looking up. “I’d understand if you don’t really want to talk about this, and you can refuse to answer if it’s really too uncomfortable to discuss. But, is there a reason you seem to be, ah, ‘humanizing’ faster than the others?”

If anything, Kindaichi looked even more apologetic. “I’m not really sure myself, to be honest. Matsukawa-senpai would know better.”

“Ahh, I see.” Another barrier, Oikawa lamented inwardly. Matsukawa, for all his laidback friendliness, was also the most tight-lipped of the strange community. Even Hanamaki had slipped up from time to time, disclosing random nuggets of information in his conversation. But if Watari was literally the stone man, Matsukawa was a stone box of secrets. Oikawa was starting to understand why the sleepy-eyed man had been selected to accompany him pre-revelation; if not for Kindaichi, Oikawa may have left the place once his knee was alright, none the wiser as to the secrets it cradled within.

“...I hate this.” Kindaichi picked at a corner of his shirt. “This change, all of it. It sucks so much, being restricted in this form. I used to be able to travel so far. _So far_.” The wistfulness in his voice was thick, almost as if he were on the verge of crying. “I knew the shape of the lands, knew what was inside every burrow, every dark area of the woods, all of it.”

“You...used to have many more eyes?”

“No.” A snort-giggle, a little wet around the edges. “I mean, I was…? Well, I wasn’t the ground, per say, but it was a part of me. If it was within my demesne, I knew it. I don’t even know how to explain it, Oikawa-san. It just… I _was_ the woods. I was the forest, the spaces between the trees, the whistle between the leaves… well, within my assigned region anyway. All this,” Kindaichi gestured at himself, “formed a few months after… after everything changed. I… I cried the first time I saw my reflection in the bathroom.”

“Can’t say I blame you,” Oikawa murmured, chancing a reassuring pat on the forest-person’s back. “Hell, I’d probably break the mirror too, while I was at it.”

“Oh, Yahaba beat me to that when he started to show signs of solidifying. I saw my reflection in the window, but the glass is too well-enforced now for me to so much as crack them.”

 _House is well-secured with some kind of enforcement magic._ Oikawa filed that tidbit away for later. Kindaichi was still talking. “I guess I’m not a terrible looking human, at least. And the forest, it’s still under my skin for now, even if it’s a bit restless. Not a lot of space within this vessel, you see. The moonlight calms it somewhat, but it pushes itself up and through my skin sometimes - that’s what you saw.”

“And the third eye?”

“That… actually, I’m not sure why my Sight transformed into an extra eye.” Kindaichi frowned vaguely at the sky. “It’s like, I am a manifestation of magic, yes, but I don’t necessarily understand it. Or how it works, or why it got corrupted.”

Oikawa blinked, straightening back up. “Corrupted?”

“Uh.” Kindaichi suddenly looked worried, arms flailing. “Oh shit. Um. Well. Matsukawa-senpai or Hanamaki-senpai would be able to explain it better?”

“Mattsun and Makki again. Honestly, they seem to know everything, given how often everyone refers to them.”

“I guess? They’re the oldest of us all, save for Iwaizumi-sama-” Kindachi looked even more panicked. “I mean, Iwaizumi-senpai. Plus, they were, I mean, they are close with Iwaizumi-senpai, so they have the best grasp on the situation?...”

“Giving away our secrets again, Yutarou?”

Both of them jumped at Kunimi’s dry voice, zeroing on where he had seated himself beside Kindaichi without being noticed. For all that the other man claimed his powers of invisibility had long faded, aspects of it clearly still lingered in the way he moved and talked.

“Damn it,” Oikawa poked the other man’s shoulder accusingly. “Don’t give me a heart attack - I’m too cute to die young.”

Kunimi blinked, barely fazed. “Matsukawa-senpai told me to call you two in for dinner. Stop blathering and come in already.”

And that was the end of that particular conversation. Still, Oikawa didn’t desist in his ardent information gathering, cheerfully pestering the magical bunch as his Book grew into two whole notebooks, then into a whole bagful of papers and haphazardly filed scraps.

On their part, the occupants themselves slowly got used to Oikawa, even Kyoutani, who had warmed to the researcher enough to stop threatening disembowelment in every other sentence - a sign of progress, as far as Oikawa was concerned.

Nevertheless, there were days when the blatant withholding of information from all corners was frustrating, especially when everyone tiptoed around a topic Oikawa knew they must have been explicitly instructed not to tell him about. He didn’t blame them - clearly, it was something considered too sensitive to share with strangers. And Oikawa, while human and seemingly harmless, was still, at his core, a stranger.

This awareness didn’t make it rankle any less when Matsukawa shut down his lines of inquiry once again, when Hanamaki bluntly denied his questions. When the others, spying the glint in his eyes, made themselves scarce for the rest of the day. Not that it took magic to do that, Oikawa thought bitterly, glaring down at his notebook from where he had sequestered himself in his favorite corner of the library. It wasn’t terribly hard to avoid a lame man, after all.

The book on his lap was opened to the section with the most information and the least answers simultaneously. ‘ _Magic is corrupted? Humanization is result of this?_ ’ had been underlined savagely several different times on several different occasions, and Oikawa stared at the two simple lines in his notes, squashing the urge to underline it yet again, or even rip the page into angry shreds. Instead, he leant against the bookshelf beside him, taking a couple of deep breaths to calm himself.

“You.” The disembodied growl was sudden, bursting out of the lonely silence. Oikawa squeaked, banging his head against the wall in surprise. The voice disregarded the pained expletives, rolling on uncompromisingly. “Stop terrorizing my people.”

Kunimi? There was no sign of the ex-invisible man, but the bass timbre of the tone was so different from Kunimi’s lighter pitch that the glance Oikawa threw around was halfhearted at best. Carefully, he resettled himself against the bookshelf, one hand creeping towards his crutch in what he already recognized as a futile attempt to defend himself. Still, there was some security in feeling somewhat prepared. “How rude, Voice-san, throwing out such baseless accusations. I’m certainly not terrorizing anyone. Who are you anyway? I don’t think we’ve met before, have we?”

A snort, echoing from a different direction this time, but the voice was the same, low and aggravated. Also strangely, achingly familiar, brushing against the edges of Oikawa’s mind like a forgotten friend. “Oh? So you haven’t been recording notes and asking a million questions about who we are and our magic?”

“I haven’t been asking a million questions!” Where was the voice coming from? Through the wall? Oikawa pressed an ear against the elaborate wallpaper, trying to hear it better. “Just… a few here and there.”

“A few?” A laugh, short and unamused, boomed from right in front of him and the cryptozoologist spun, startled anew. “Try ‘a lot’. The number of times I’ve heard you bothering one of the others probably can’t be numbered on my damn fingers _and_ toes.”

“You’re avoiding my question - who _are_ you?” Keep provoking him, his memory urged, frantically rifling through all its sound files, struggling to place a name to the voice. Keep him talking. “I thought I’ve met all of you already. You know, it’s usually considered impolite not to introduce yourself in polite company.”

“And there you go again, more questions. Here’s one for you: how the hell do the others put up with you day in day out?”

“Excuse you, I’m a perfectly charming individual-”

“You’re a downright nuisance, that’s what you are.”

“And you’re - wait. You’re… you’re Iwaizumi-san, aren’t you?” For Oikawa had finally, _finally_ placed why it sounded so familiar. The ramifications, the sheer possibility of just who this person was, who this _being_ was crashed into him, heavy as a boulder in its significance and Oikawa had to close his eyes against its weight, even as it drove the air out of his lungs.

Iwaizumi. The hidden head of this household. The Hibagon of Oikawa’s past. The creature Oikawa had been so tirelessly tracking for years now, here in this room somewhere with him.

The voice went silent abruptly, and Oikawa’s heart lurched. He stumbled to his feet, clumsily pushing himself up on his crutch. “No! Don’t go - come back-”

“I’m still here.” The reply was quieter, cautious.

“You…” _Thank you_ , his mind tried to push into his mouth. _Thank you for saving me back then. Thank you for giving me a purpose, thank you for showing me that I haven’t been chasing a fairytale all this time._ “...sound like a grumpy old man. Honestly, Iwaizumi-san, I’ve only just met you and already you’re like the type of person who probably frowns alllll the time.”

Silence again. Then, “Huh, you really are an asshole. Should’ve known this would be a waste of time.” Already, the voice was fading to a whisper, a dwindling wisp of sound.

“Nooo, wait, Iwaizumi-san, I was just joking!” Oikawa banged hard on the closest shelf several times, desperate to keep Iwaizumi around a little longer. “Don’t leave!”

“Damn it, watch the books!” The voice flared, loud and irritated. “Are you trying to add vandalism to your list of assholery?”

“Please, as if I would dislodge any of these texts. Some of these are incredibly hard to find, by the way - how _did_ you get your hands on them?”

“Why would you even care how I got them?”

“I’m a cryptozoologist - it’s practically written in my job’s scope to be a busybody. Speaking of, there’s so much I want to ask you.” The thought to ask if Iwaizumi remembered him drifted up, but Oikawa discarded the idea for a later time. “How did all of you guys - Mattsun, Makki, and everyone else - meet? Why does everyone defer to you? Why haven’t I seen you around - are you in hiding? Is there even still areas to hide in this place? _Why_ are you still concealed anyway - the others don’t exactly look human themselves either. Unless,” a vague memory of the Hibagon popped into mind, “You look more terrifying than them?

Another growl. “Enough! God, are you always like this? No wonder Watari always looks so stressed after he has to deal with you.”

“In the interest of fairness, Watari stresses out if I so much as look at him,” Oikawa sniffed. Iwaizumi snorted.

“And whose fault is that exactly?”

“His, obviously. It’s not like I’m twisting his arm or anything - all my information gathering has been strictly on a voluntary basis. But we’re getting sidetracked from your main question, Iwaizumi-san - ”

“What the fuck is ‘my main question’, I didn’t -”

“‘Why would I even care about how you got your books.’ Which, based on the context of our conversation thus far, I’ve interpreted to mean ‘why would I even care about what you have to say’. See, not all of us are so stingy about answering things. I just…” Oikawa hesitated, but plunged on anyway. “I’m interested in knowing you. You’re literally the one person in this place that I haven’t gotten to meet. Plus, you’re a potential new information source.”

“An information source,” Iwaizumi repeated, sounding incredulous.

“Yu~p! And hopefully a more helpful one, because seriously, Mattsun and Makki won’t tell me _anything_.”

“And why exactly do you think I’d actually cooperate with you?”

“Because I’m nice? And pretty cute too - I don’t know if you can see me from where you are, but I have it on good authority that I’m quite the eye candy.” Oikawa flashed a quick peace sign, in case Iwaizumi really was watching him. “Plus, you’re still talking to me, right? Which means I can’t be _that_ bad a conversation partner.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“I’m not if it’s a fact, Iwaizumi-san.” Oikawa carried on hastily before the disembodied voice decided enough was enough and took its leave. “Besides, it’s not like I’ll just badger you all the time with questions. We could totally talk about random things, like… like books! And, and the weather! And why Kindaichi keeps insisting on trying to make lasagne even though he keeps burning it. Come to think of it… where is he getting all that cheese from?” Oikawa dashed off a quick note in his notebook to ask the other man just that. “On your end, wouldn’t it be interesting to talk to someone different? I’m not saying you get lonely - there’s enough people around here to constitute as ‘company - but I could tell you about how things are like in Tokyo now, for instance. Or discuss changes in world issues, if you’re interested in that, especially since you lot don’t have internet out here. Which, still mind-boggling, by the way. Hell, we could talk about how it’s like to be fully human before you guys are reduced to my level. Anything goes, and I solemnly swear I will be a lot more generous with my information than all of you put together.”

“You’re putting a lot of effort into this pitch.”

Oikawa caught himself grinning; Iwaizumi’s words, despite their acerbic nature, had taken on a slightly thoughtful tone. “It’s mutually beneficial, don’t you think?”

“Still not seeing how this benefits me.”

“Let me lay it out for you: if I get to ask you my questions, I’d stop ‘harassing’ the rest of your friends, wouldn’t I?”

“I wouldn’t put it past you to be a general nuisance either way.”

“Rude,” Oikawa huffed. “Look, I’ll bug the others less-”

“Harassing’.”

“I was _not_ harassing the-” Oikawa caught himself, straightening with a huff. “Fine, I’ll stop _harassing the others,_ happy? As an extra bonus, I’ll do my best to suppress my natural inquisitiveness and refrain from trying to track you down in this house, on one-”

“Thank you.”

“On one condition!” Damn mysterious people and their affinity for throwing Oikawa off-course. “You have to talk to me at least once a day.”

“Once… a day.” Iwaizumi’s voice was dubious.

“Yup, just once. I don’t even have to see you, you can keep hiding yourself for all I care, but one conversation once a day. Could be here in this library, if that’s what you prefer. Do we have a deal?”

The pause was long enough that for a few long moments, Oikawa feared that Iwaizumi had finally upped and left. Then, “How do I know that you’ll keep your word?”

“Oh, my word is really good. I’ve never made a promise I can’t keep, Iwaizumi-san.”

Another pause. Then, a long sigh. “Fine. Two o clock, one hour a day, here. Come late, and I’ll won’t bother sticking around past the allotted time. Happy?”

“Elated.” Oikawa couldn’t help the victorious grin spreading across his face.

“Someone looks happy,” Hanamaki remarked much later, when Oikawa stumped around the kitchen in high spirits, humming gleefully. Watari inched away from the blatantly telegraphed satisfaction, while Matsukawa looked up from where he was playing cards with Yahaba and Kyoutani at the large dining table. Heavy-lidded eyes studied the researcher’s gleeful expression with anything but sleepiness, before a slow smile curled along thin lips.

“More like someone’s bugged Iwaizumi enough for the main actor to finally make his appearance on-stage.”

“Please, Mattsun. If anyone’s the main actor here, it’s quite obviously me, don’t you think? After all, it’s obvious that my naturally charismatic nature and equally charming exterior -”

“Someone kill me now,” Kyoutani muttered, almost crushing the cards in his grip.

“-was too much for even Iwaizumi-san’s mule-ish nature to resist,” Oikawa finished with great relish. Hanamaki grinned.

“Oh, this is going to be so good.”

“For you maybe,” Yahaba made a face, throwing his cards onto the table. “Ugh, I fold. I for one am not looking forward to the one million and one complaints about Oikawa-san we’re going to have to put up with from now until eternity.”

“I love you too, Yahaba-chan,” Oikawa sang as he navigated his way out of the small space. Hanamaki cackled.

“Oooch, Kyoutani. _Triggered._ ”

“Shut up, senpai.”

“I liked him more when he was more respectful of my position,” Hanamaki said mournfully to Matsukawa, who merely shrugged and folded as well, tossing his hand into the pile at the center of the table.

“Eh, things are changing, _we_ are changing. Can’t do anything about it but hope that the changes are for the better.”

“Issei, ever the optimist.” Hanamaki toasted him with his mug. “Though let’s not kid ourselves about the ‘not doing anything’ part; you’re definitely monitoring this much too closely to be blase over that.”

“Do you honestly think Oikawa-san being here is going to make any sort of difference? This isn’t exactly a fairy tale, and Iwaizumi-senpai’s condition isn’t exactly something a human would-” a quick warning glance from Hanamaki, and Yahaba quieted immediately, lowering his eyes. “Sorry.”

“I don’t know, Yahaba.” Matsukawa steepled his fingers. “But I suppose we’ll find out. Anyway, enough with the heavy stuff - reshuffle the deck please, Kyoutani. And if you cheat again, human or not, I will kick your ass.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Working out each person's power/appearance was trickier than I thought it would be. 
> 
> Also, posting chapters is a pretty novel feeling! I think this is the second chaptered fic I've ever attempted, fanfic-wise. (It probably doesn't even count since I've technically finished this already, whoops.) It's tempting to just push everything out in one go, but the latter chapters are still due for some thorough re-reading and may be in for some re-hauling here and there.
> 
> Thank you for the support thus far! *bows* It's been really encouraging to know some of you are looking forward to seeing how this all plays out. I hope this doesn't disappoint!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter includes a brief allusion to suicide, and dub-con regarding something Matsukawa did with his power. I've outlined the scenario in which both appear within the fic in the end notes. The section is skippable, starting from 'Much later, the researcher chanced asking Matsukawa...' up until the section break.

“Iwa-chan.” Curled up comfortably in one of the large reading chairs by the window, Oikawa tapped his pen against the blank page he had opened his notebook to, pondering which of his questions to ask first once Iwaizumi arrived Selecting the first question was always integral - from experience, it set up the tone for interviews and put people at ease to answer the harder probes. Given the list of questions the researcher had amassed over the past week, there were going to be quite a number of difficult questions he wasn’t sure Iwaizumi would be keen on answering. Still, he reasoned internally, it wouldn’t hurt much to toss them out and see what kind of responses they garnered.

Once Iwaizumi deigned to show up that is. Granted, Oikawa himself was a little early, but that  was simply professionalism, he told himself firmly. After all, it wasn’t as if Iwaizumi would be able to avoid the research student for too long in his own house.

Still, all the anticipation had furnished Oikawa with an overabundance of energy, so much so that he couldn’t help fidgeting in his seat.

“Iwa-chan, are you there yet? Iwa-chan. Iwa-chaaaan.”

“Call me that again, and I won’t be,” the voice barked in Oikawa’s ear, causing the brunet to jerk, startled.

“Ugh, give a man some warning, Iwa-chan! I think you took two years off my life there.”

“You asked for it. What kind of shit nickname is that?”

“A really cute one. I figured that if you don’t have a cute form, which I’m going to assume is the case since you refuse to show yourself, you can at least have a cute name.”

“I don’t like it.” The reply was thin and taut, with an underlying thread of tension. Under any other circumstances, the researcher would have immediately picked up on it and switched strategies to come across as a little more reassuring and careful in his manner of speech.

But Oikawa was too caught up in the promise of finally getting some concrete answers to notice the tightness lining Iwaizumi’s voice. Instead, he sing-songed, “we can’t all like everything in life, Iwa-chan. It’s important to learn to accept what we can’t change as our lot in life.”

“The hell do you mean ‘my lot in life’-”

“Anyway, we’d better stop wasting this precious hour. We’ll start simple, okay? What’s your full name?”

A brief pause. Then, “Not answering that. Next.”

Thrown off-guard, Oikawa gaped at the ceiling. “Ehh? Don’t tell me you can’t even answer that much?”

“If I remember the terms of our agreement correctly, I agreed to talk to you, not necessarily answer anything you ask.” The curtness saturating the blunt statement was almost tangible, and Oikawa struggled to not look too irritated on the off-chance the other person was indeed watching him. “Next.”

“But-”

“Who’s wasting time now?”

Gritting his teeth, the cryptozoologist re-scanned the page, selecting the next least-intrusive question. “Does this residence belong to you or Mattsun-”

“Nope. Next.”

 _This bastard_. His fingernails bit painfully into his palm, fisted as tightly as they were, and Oikawa struggled to keep his voice light. “So, have you always been born magical?”

“Nice try, but I can recognize a lead question when I hear it, Idiotkawa.”

What the actual fuck. “What the actual fuck,” Oikawa seethed. “‘Idiotkawa’? Where did that come from?”

“I get a shitty nickname, you get a shitty nickname. Next.”

And so it went for the whole hour, Oikawa doggedly pushing questions onto Iwaizumi, who bluntly rejected them outright, or articulated his disdain for the queries in clipped barbs.

“Is there anything you’ll actually answer today?” You fucker, Oikawa didn’t say out loud, but it punctuated his statement as clearly as if he had dropped the slur.

“Yes, I do think this is pointless. And that you are wasting both our time. Care to guess at the question?”

Oikawa didn’t remember Iwaizumi being this snappish during their first meeting, much less this hostile. Something must have happened since then; given the amount of time that had elapsed, it could be anything from regret at agreeing to this whole set-up to Iwaizumi’s true personality emerging from its shell. Oikawa hoped it wasn’t the latter, because if it were...well, he had had to deal with worse interviewees before, but he’d assumed that, given the rest of the house’s residents, that Iwaizumi would be, at the very least, pleasant.

As it was, the cryptozoologist had lost this first skirmish, and they both knew it.

Pushing himself into a standing position, Oikawa adjusted his crutch, back stiff and straight. “Well, this has been...interesting. I’ll see you tomorrow, _Iwa-chan_.”

The other man didn’t even dignify that statement with a reply as Oikawa left, head upright.

“Someone’s pissed,” Matsukawa observed unnecessarily as Oikawa flung plates into the sink harder than necessary, muttering darkly to himself.

“You don’t say,” Hanamaki’s eyes were as inscrutable as Matsukawa’s as they followed the researcher around the room. “And here I was thinking we’d have to bodily drag him out at the stroke of midnight.”

"I-" There were storms in Oikawa's eyes as he waved his crutch around for emphasis. “-will _break_ Iwa-chan. No one, and I mean no one, is going to out-stubborn _me._ ”

“Oho, it’s ‘Iwa-chan’ now?” Matsukawa’s eyebrows did a little dance in his face. “Maybe Iwaizumi _is_ going a little soft, Hiro.”

Oikawa left the kitchen before he could hear Hanamaki’s reply.

Surprisingly, it was Watari who sought Oikawa out, catching him when the latter was perched on the back porch in the semi-darkness of twilight.

“I didn’t know you draw, Oikawa-san.”

“No…” The brunet glanced down at the page he had filled with half-hearted doodles and smiled faintly. “But I suppose I do now. Pent-up stress can only be held for too long before it develops into wrinkles. And I’m too pretty for wrinkles, Watari-chan.”

The stone man rolled his eyes at the would-be flippant reply, carefully settling himself on the steps beside Oikawa. They sat in companionable silence for a while, listening to the sounds of the night forest waking up. Somewhere beyond the fence, Kindaichi was out darting through the dappled shadows, reaching out with the last of his receding power for that thread of connection he used to have with the gnarled sentinels of the woods. Kyoutani was probably also out somewhere - it was a good night for running, to race through the brush and brambles as the wind whipped against one’s flanks.

Idly, Oikawa wondered how it must be to be Kyoutani, or any of the other residents: to have been born with magic as a part of who you were, only to have it trickle away, drip by drip, from you. Perhaps it was good to be merely human after all, he mused, to have never known the allure of the fantastic at all.

Watari broke the comfortable stillness first. “My power, it’s teleportation.”

Blinking, Oikawa glanced at the other man. “Huh?”

“I can teleport from one place to another.” Watari scrubbed at the back of his neck with a craggy hand. “That’s how we get groceries - I pop into a nearby town, and and make quick food runs. I used to be able to take Kunimi or Matsukawa-senpai with me, but I don’t have enough magic for that anymore. So now, I get Yahaba to fix me up with a temporary illusion and pray it holds up. So...yeah, that’s why our kitchen seems always stocked.” He cocked his head. “Not going to write that down?”

Oikawa looked down at his notebook. He really should, for the sake of research, but, “Maybe later. Why tell me this suddenly, Watari-chan?”

“You’ve been asking for ages; I figured you deserved to learn something new today.” Watari’s shrug was the grating of rocks grounded together. “I heard that today’s ‘conversation’ with Iwaizumi-senpai didn’t go particularly well.”

Oikawa’s chuckle was wry. “That’s one way to look at it, I suppose.”

“Look, Oikawa-san, about Iwaizumi-senpai.” Watari turned his gaze back out towards the expanse before them. “Today was just a...a bad day. One of the really bad ones. He gets those sometimes. He’s...he’s honestly got it the worst of all of us, and I admire his mental fortitude so much you have no idea.”

The wind whistled through the leaves, tugging the whispers of the hidden spaces over to where the two of them sat on the back steps. Still Oikawa remained silent, something in Watari’s tone signalling that he wasn’t quite done yet.

“He never ever lets any of us feel bad about it when it gets hard to bear, says that it’s alright, that he can handle it. It’s kind of our faults that...well, not that we could've done anything else about it, but sometimes, I wish...” Watari’s voice wavered, shuddering, “I wish I could shoulder some of the weight, you know? Take my share of the responsibility. But we can’t, we’re just _not strong enough._ ”

Oikawa’s hand was already on the other man’s shoulder, stroking the flint-hard surface as soothingly as he could until the broad planes stopped trembling. Gentle hums saturated the air; Oikawa didn’t registered them as his until Watari straightened up from where he had buried his head in his hands. It took a little longer before the other man spoke again.

“So if he seemed snappish earlier, don’t take it personally, Oikawa-san. It’s not you; he’ll probably feel terrible about it tomorrow. Try asking him the things you asked today then. But cut him some slack just for today, please.”

“Don’t worry about me, Watari-chan. I’m a lot more resilient than any of you are likely to give me credit for.” A small smile, and another reassuring pat on a rock shoulder. “But I appreciate the heads up, thank you.”

“Thank you too, Oikawa-san. And  uh, don’t stay out too long - it can get pretty cold this time of month.”

As Watari got up to leave, Oikawa called to him, “The next time you go into town, could you grab me a pack of milk bread please? I’ve missed those terribly.”

Watari’s laugh floated back to him, gentle and relieved. “I’ll see what I can do.”

\---

The next day saw Oikawa armed with his notebook and a vehement determination to be as friendly and approachable as possible.

“Good afternoon, Iwa-chan,” he trilled at exactly two o'clock, stretched out in his chair of choice.

The voice, when it finally came, was cautious, as quiet as a breeze. “Hi.”

“Kindaichi’s really improving at the whole lasagne thing,” Oikawa remarked conversationally. “Though someone really should tell him that people can only eat so much cheese before it becomes too much, you know?”

“I...guess?”

“By the way, I’ve been meaning to ask; is there a particular direction I should be looking at when I talk to you? Because it can be super-disconcerting to hear someone talking from behind me.” Oikawa lowered his voice conspiratorially. “It happened to me once, and it was the weirdest feeling.”

“Umm, I could…” A small, glowing orb materialized on Oikawa’s left, floating gently in the air. “Better?”

“Much, thank you,” Oikawa beamed, flipping open his notebook with a flourish.

“About yesterday…” Iwaizumi ventured tentatively.

A flippant wave of a hand.“You know what they say, Iwa-chan - ‘yesterday’s history, tomorrow’s a mystery, but today is a present’. And I have only this one-hour gift of yours, so let’s make it count, alright?”

“Yeah, I.” A soft exhale of air, and the orb grew a little brighter, hovered a little closer. “Yeah.”

Oikawa found himself smiling. “Excellent. So, let’s pick up from where we left off yesterday: what’s your full name?”

“Iwaizumi Hajime.” The reply was overly quick, almost as if Iwaizumi had been waiting for it.

“What kind of magic can you do?”

“Ah.” The voice shrunk again, small and apologetic. “I really can’t answer that. It’s...complicated. I am capable of a lot, I suppose, but...I’m really sorry.”

Oikawa’s thoughts jumped back to the strange man-beast that had saved him all those years back. He couldn’t remember Iwaizumi performing any type of magic in particular then, but he had been distracted by his escape to have really noticed anything aside from the gangly form. “It’s okay, Iwa-chan. Hmm, I’m guessing the reason you’re staying out of sight is out of bounds too?”

“Let’s just say my form isn’t particularly nice to look at.” Iwaizumi groaned. “I swear, I’m not trying to be difficult today, but these...I honestly can’t...yeah.”

“It’s okay, Iwa-chan - we’ll try something else. How about...oh! Just for confirmation’s sake - _are_ you actually a Hibagon? _The_ Hibagon that people claim to see?”

“Uh, whatever people are seeing these days, it’s definitely not me. Either way, I don’t think of myself as a Hibagon.”

“Oh.” It’s alright, Oikawa reasoned, tapping his pen against his chin - the term itself had been coined by witnesses and researchers anyway, all of them human; Iwaizumi not considering himself the Hibagon didn’t necessarily he wasn’t the one other cryptozoologists were referring to. “Mmmm, what do you consider yourself then?”

“...A typical magical being?”

“I don’t think there’s anything ‘typical’ about you, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa dutifully recorded his answer down anyway. “Moving on: is this your house?”

“Yeah, it is. And before you ask, the books are mostly mine as well.”

Laughing, Oikawa shook his head. “‘Friend out of Japan’, huh - I’m going to kick Mattsun later. I’d ask how to got them all but,” he wriggled his fingers, “magic, I suppose?”

“Yep. The magic of money.”

“...Iwa-chan, did you just make a joke?”

“Just keep asking your damn questions already.”

And so, Oikawa learnt that the house he was in was only a fraction of what used to be a vaster, more diverse area, reduced to its current state to ensure its current residents had a safe space to transition into humanity without being threatened or spotted. Apparently, there used to be an entire kingdom’s worth of magical beings and creatures once, before the magic started degrading and whole masses of once-magical creatures transformed into humans seemingly overnight.

“What happened to them?” Oikawa asked, curious. "After, I mean."

“I don’t know either.” A pained confession. “I hope they’re doing alright though.”

The cryptozoologist also discovered that people he had come to consider his temporary housemates were all stupidly strong, magic-wise.

“What, even Kin-chan?”

“Yes, Kindaichi as well.” Iwaizumi had a nice laugh, husky and warm. “It’s hard to imagine it now, but he used to be pretty damn powerful. He’s one of the unfortunate few who was forced into a physical body with the loss of his magic - used to be mostly incorporeal, if I recall correctly. He only took on solid form for official proceedings where his visible presence was needed.”

“Hmm, so more of a spirit than a being.” Oikawa jotted down Iwaizumi’s explanation in the pages he reserved for Kindaichi’s profile. “How is it that you managed to explain that better than Kin-chan himself?”

Another laugh. “He was probably worried about revealing too much. It’s like trying to explain what the sun is without using the word ‘light’ or ‘bright’.”

“And you have the right to explain all of this?” Leafing through his notes, it wasn't hard to notice that Iwaizumi had patched in several information gaps that the others had only skirted around previously.

“Uh, I guess I do, in a sense? Long story there, but you won’t be getting it today - your hour’s already up, by the way.”

“Awwww, I was hoping you wouldn’t notice.” Oikawa snapped his book shut and stretched. “I guess I’ll just have to ask you tomorrow then.”

“Sure, assuming I feel like answering them - the guilt-trip is only valid for one day.”

“It’s ok - I have full confidence in my ability to re-charm you all over again tomorrow.”

A snort. “Big talk from a fragile human.”

“I’m not fragile!”

“Says he who almost broke into half tumbling down a tiny cliff.”

“Any normal human being would have suffered the same damn thing if they had fallen off a _freaking tall_ cliff,” Oikawa grumbled petulantly. “Seriously, maybe you guys should ask _me_ questions on how to be human before you accidentally kill yourselves trying to fit in.”

“Maybe,” Iwaizumi agreed, voice already fading out with the orb.

The joyful high at the successful interview with Iwaizumi was muted when Kindaichi crept back into the house that night, shaking and distraught.

“My third eye, it’s gone, it’s _gone_ -”

The brambles along Kindaichi’s shoulders were barely jutting out, thin and shrivelled; the osmanthus blossoms were withered. Oikawa could only hang back as Kunimi - apathetic, expressionless, _human_ Kunimi - gripped Kindaichi to him fiercely, arms tight around the other’s back as grief dripped down both men’s cheeks, salty rivers of sorrow and loss.

“It’s speeding up,” Hanamaki murmured to Matsukawa somewhere behind Oikawa, voice tight and angry. “There’s not much time left, Issei.”

Matsukawa’s reply was too low for Oikawa to pick up, but the researcher shivered anyway. Unwilling to intrude on what was clearly a private moment any longer, he slipped out as unobtrusively as he could, with the first question for tomorrow’s session with Iwaizumi already branded into his mind.

\---

“Why is the magic leaving your kind?”

A long pause, but not an empty one. When Iwaizumi finally spoke, it was careful and controlled. “It’s difficult to explain that without spending a lot of time on the topic, time I’m not willing to spare. All you really need to know is that magic, or at least the source of magic within all magical beings, has somehow been corrupted to the extent that it’s causing us to die. To put it simply, the magic has to leave us in order for us to stay alive.”

“But why is it corrupted? Can’t you fix it?”

“You think I haven’t tried?” Iwaizumi’s tone dropped as quickly as it had risen, but was no less thick with frustration. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have - anyway. I’ve tried to to understand why it’s happening, even did my own investigation to see if it was reversible.” That explained all the books, Oikawa realized. “It just...I can’t…”An explosive exhale. “Stupid of me really - of course _human_ research wasn’t going to help. Long story short: no, we can’t fix it.”

“That’s…” Oikawa swallowed, for once at a loss for words. “Seriously fucked up.”

Iwaizumi’s laughter was brittle. “Tell me something I don’t already know.”

“Why are six of you still magical then? Didn’t you say the rest of your kind have already transitioned over into humans? And Kunimi-chan and Mattsun, they’re both humans already too, right?”

“The process is slower for some of them because they’re more powerful than the others.” Iwaizumi paused, the avatar-orb vibrating imperceptibly. “I… the magic takes longer to leave them because of the strength of their abilities. Lemme put it this way: they’ve got more magic than, say, a standard magical being. As to why Issei and Kunimi are humans, ask them yourself. It’s not my story to tell.”

“Right. I’ll do that.” Oikawa hesitated. “Will they tell me though?”

“How would I know? Depends on whether or not they’re willing to share.”

“No, I mean…” Long fingers curled, too-tight, around a well-used pen. “ _Can_ they actually tell me? Won’t there be some kind of restriction or something, after how you lot have been avoiding telling me anything?”

“Well, you already know I exist, and I’ve pretty much been answering your questions, haven’t I?” The answer, when it came, was measured. “If any of the others refuse to entertain your busybody notions, it’ll be for their own personal reasons. Matsukawa said he already told you not to publish your notes, but I guess we can’t really stop you from doing it in the end. Not that it’d be of any use or anything; he wasn’t lying when he said it’d be useless by the time it makes it into print. But,” and here, Iwaizumi’s tone gentled, “Call it a gut feeling, but I don’t think you will publicize any of this information, will you, Oikawa?”

For a talking orb, Iwaizumi was much too perceptive, Oikawa lamented inwardly, burying his head into a pillow once the other had left. Damn the man, the researcher _was_ finding it hard to even imagine translating any of his carefully-collected information into academic text for others to pick apart and ridicule. Magic, as improbable and fantastical as it was, had become so very real to Oikawa, and an inexplicable need to protect his new acquaintances had taken root within him before he was even fully aware of it.

Much later, the researcher chanced asking Matsukawa regarding the accelerated loss of his magic.

“Ah, yes, my power.” Matsukawa stirred his coffee, meeting Oikawa’s eyes levelly over the dinner set out before them. Around them, the others had hushed, turning their attention towards the pair. “Iwaizumi said to ask me?”

At Oikawa’s nod, the tall man’s eyebrows jumped a little. “Interesting. But if the boss says so…” He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at it thoughtfully. “Heh, it’s been awhile since I’ve thought about my magic. I used to be able to manipulate minds. Memory, thoughts, plans - the works. You know Professor X from the ‘X-Men’? That was my thing - my magic hoodoo, so to speak.”

“And Iwa-chan is still more powerful than you?” Oikawa breathed, disbelieving. Mind control, what the actual fuck. All the metaphysicians he knew in the U.S. would have cried tears of joy at Matsukawa’s admission. And yet, what Iwaizumi was supposedly capable of was stronger than even that _?_

Matsukawa’s smile was lazy. “Yep, can’t top him, magic-wise. But, Iwaizumi aside, you could consider me the second-strongest amongst our bunch. Technically, if we use ‘strength of ability’ as the measure of how long it’d take for one of us to turn fully human, I’d be the last one converted. But the magic drains faster if you use it constantly, and I used all of mine up in one huge-ass gesture.”

“What did you do?”

“I wiped the magic-related memories of all the folk within our realm who became human,” the sleepy-eyed man replied, taking a long sip of his drink.

“ _What the fuck?_ ” Oikawa felt his own mug loosen in his grip, distantly heard the distinctive slosh of Yahaba’s arm as something wet brushed across his arm and caught the mug before it could hit the table. “But, but _why?_ ”

“It was for the best,” Hanamaki’s interjection was matter-of-fact. “It sounds cruel, _is_ cruel - not going to beat around that bush - and Issei beat himself over it for fucking months, but it had to be done. Just imagine, Oikawa, gradually losing one of your senses for no fucking reason at all. Everyday, you lose a little bit more, until you're left with just the memories of what you once had. Sounds horrible? Now take that shitty feeling, and multiply it exponentially. For magical folk, the source of magic within us is pretty much a huge chunk of who we are; it’s a part of our identity, to put it crudely.

If you’re thinking maybe you might rather die than live on with such an integral part of you gone, it would be understandable. But we’re talking a whole kingdom-full of magical beings feeling that withdrawal -  talk about a potential mass suicide nightmare. What Mattsun did isn’t fair to our people, we know that. We,” Hanamaki swallowed, eyes closing briefly, “we lost friends, _family_ even - Mattsun had to clear all memories of us as well, since we were - are still magical for now. We couldn’t risk them wondering what happened to us. The wipe was brutal, but ultimately, it would allow our people to at least move forward towards fruitful lives, albeit on different paths.”

“Plus, we couldn’t have them tracking us back to this place,” Yahaba added, setting Oikawa’s mug down firmly on the table. “There were already enough academics speculating on whether magic is real - we couldn’t allow for the possibility of anyone actually finding out that it is. Not before it has been completely wiped out, and certainly not while we have problems controlling how it’s leaving us.”

“Did Iwa-chan-”

“He didn’t know. And by the time he found out, his rage was tempered by his fear at my apparent ‘death’.” Matsukawa grimaced, shaking his head. “The fallout of that wasn’t fun at all. Think I blacked out for what, a couple of days? Not that it improved after - thought I’d go batshit insane from both the energy drain and the sudden magic loss. Rather felt as if someone had stuck their hand into my chest and ripped my heart out while it was still beating.”

“Too graphic, thanks,” someone muttered.

“Not inaccurate though,” Matsukawa countered easily. “It was a necessity at the time, but ten out of ten would definitely not recommend. Either way, that’s quite enough about the good old times for one night. We good, Oikawa?”

“Yeah,” the researcher said, almost as if to himself. “We’re good.”

That night, he dreamt of having to wipe the minds of everyone he loved - his parents, his nephew, all of Takeda’s research, even Ushijima. “It’s for your own good,” dream-Oikawa kept insisting, tears streaming down his face, even as each one of the people he touched stared at him with empty eyes and hollow cheeks.

His cheeks were wet when he woke too early the next morning, but Matsukawa kindly overlooked the puffiness that ringed the researcher’s eyes, and if Oikawa clapped him a little too hard on the shoulder, neither of them mentioned it.

\---

The story behind the loss of Kunimi’s magical ability, thankfully, was a little less heart-wrenching.

“I turned this whole place invisible until everything was settled.” The shorter boy sounded almost bored. “My reserves were already fairly low at that point anyway, so I humanized pretty quickly.”

“I see.” How does one respond to learning these kinds of information? ‘I’m sorry’ seemed too trite, ‘thank you’ even worse. But any other platitude didn’t seem sincere enough to suffice.

Kunimi looked at him a little longer before breaking into a rare smile. “It’s alright, Oikawa-san. My loss was a lot easier than Matsukawa-senpai’s, and was much less painful. Plus, it was necessary; I didn’t mind doing it.”

He left the room after a brief nod towards Oikawa, leaving the researcher with a renewed sense of respect towards his housemates’ mental fortitude. He mentioned as much to Iwaizumi during their daily chat, and Iwaizumi agreed, pleased.

“I tried to get them to leave with the others initially, when the magic first started draining. Bunch of stubborn assholes though; they refused to leave the premises, no matter how many times I tried to eject them.” But the tone was too fond to be properly exasperated.

“Takes one to know one.”  

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. What have you got for me today?”

Oikawa tapped his chin with his pen, considering. “What did you use to do in your free time? Y’know, before all this.”

A surprised sound, and the tiny Iwaizumi-orb bobbed in mid-air. “Huh, no magic-related questions? That’s unexpected.”

Oikawa wrinkled his nose. “Between Mattsun’s and Kunimi’s stories, I don’t think _I’m_ mentally prepared to deal with anymore potentially depressing information for now. The hard questioning can resume tomorrow, unless you’re simply dying to divulge sensitive information?”

“Hah, no thanks. Hmmm, free time, what _did_ I do?...I guess I used to watch tv dramas, maybe hit the gym once a week? I was a sports therapist, so it wasn’t as if I had a lot of excess time.”

“ _Heeeeeh_?” Oikawa sat upright, eyes wide. “You actually worked in a normal job? Like a normal human being?”

“Oi, no need to exaggerate it, dumbass,” Iwaizumi grumbled. “Just because magic was hidden didn’t mean we isolated ourselves from human society. While our magical borders were different from geographic ones, we still consider ourselves very much a part of modern Japan. Seijou - that’s our territory’s designation - overlapped most of the Miyagi prefecture, and corners of Iwate and Yamagata. Then, there are the other magical territories, but we don’t interact with the other kingdoms unless absolutely necessary, so I can’t tell you much about them. Granted, not all of us interacted with humanity; Kindaichi kept to the forest, being one of the spirit of the woods; same went for Kyoutani and Yahaba. And some did take care to keep away from humans, like Watari. But a large number of us integrated ourselves into the local community from time to time, taking on human jobs to amuse ourselves.”

“So you took a job, huh? Were you bored or something, Iwa-chan?”

“A little, I guess. Most of us have pretty long lifespans; it’s nice to have some change to shake things up now and then.”

“That makes sense,” Oikawa murmured. Hibagon-Iwaizumi had appeared adult-sized when Oikawa was still a child, after all. “Well, all this supports my primary hypothesis - from the data I’ve collected, I think we can safely conclude that you are, indeed, a grumpy old man.”

“Shut up, Idiotkawa.”

“Never." Smirking, Oikawa resettled into the chair. “It’s ok, Iwa-chan - not all of us can be young and beautiful, after all.”

The orb rammed itself into Oikawa’s arm, causing the researcher to squeak. “I’ll show _you_ young and beautiful.”

“Owwww, Iwa-chan, that hurts!”

“You were asking for it.” But the tone was smug rather than terse, and Oikawa couldn’t help the smile that flitted across his face.

“Anyway, picking up from where we got sidetracked -”

“You mean, where _you_ got sidetracked.”

“Did you,” Oikawa said as loudly as he could, “work at a local hospital in Miyagi?”

“Not quite; I worked at a clinic. Pretty small place, but, man, the kind of people would would come in.”

“Lots of headaches, huh?”

“Yeah.” There was a smile embedded in Iwaizumi’s reply. “There was this time this kid came in - more annoying than you, actually…”

The next few days passed much in the same way, with Oikawa asking lighter, more personal questions and Iwaizumi, surprisingly enough, playing along. The cryptozoologist’s notes slowly started veering away from details of the Hibagon, the pages filling instead with small, somewhat inconsequential details ranging from Iwaizumi’s favorite food (agedashi tofu) to his favorite sport (volleyball; he used to play wing spiker). Eventually, the conversations began to lengthen as well, inching past the strict one-hour mark Iwaizumi had initially enforced. The voice never stayed longer than two hours, but it was much longer than what Oikawa had ever hoped for.

“This almost feels as if I’ve made an online friend over Line or something,” he remarked during one of their sessions. “I can’t see you, but I feel as if I know you anyway, Iwa-chan.”

“Oh, do you now?”

“Enough to be able to blackmail you when you go full-on human.” Oikawa hummed playfully, waggling his eyebrows at the orb. “Watch out, you’re going to have to be nice to me if you don’t want me airing your dirty stories all over Miyagi.”

“Dumbass, as if that’d matter.”

“Ohhh, I’ll make it matter, count on it. Say,” Oikawa prodded at the orb with the tip of his pen, pouting as it darted out of range. “I can’t see you, but can _you_ see _me_ , Iwa-chan?”

“Yup.”

“Ehhhhh!” The researcher flailed, hands immediately going to his hair and finger-combing through it frantically. “Oh my god, if I had known - I have _eye-bags_ , damn it, this is terrible -”

“Oikawa.” Iwaizumi’s voice had a teasing lilt to it. “Primping isn’t going to make that much of a difference.”

“Excuse you,” Oikawa shot back. “Primping gives a person’s looks that extra edge between looking nice and looking amazing. I suppose you wouldn’t know these things, Old-Man-chan.”

“Well, if it counts, I think you always look….like an idiot.”

“ _MEAN-IWACHAN_!” Oikawa’s screech couldn’t drown Iwaizumi’s roar of laughter, loud and uncontrollable through the orb’s broadcast. It was a rough, helpless sound, wave after wave of it ringing throughout the quiet of the library. It was the kind of laugh that shook the entire body and scrunched up the face unattractively, painting it in shades of unflattering red.

Oikawa had never wanted to see Iwaizumi as much as he did in that moment, listening to Iwaizumi struggle to get himself back under control.

“Thank you, by the way.” Matsukawa’s comment caught Oikawa by surprise when he exited the library thirty minutes later. The latter jumped, stifling a squeak as he clutched his crutch closer to him.

“Waa, give a guy some warning, Mattsun! What are you doing out here anyway? And what are you thanking me for?”

“You made Iwaizumi laugh so hard, we could hear it from downstairs.” Matsukawa’s grin was lazy as he got up from where he had been crouched against the wall, brushing dust off the seat of his pants. “It’s been so long since he’s done that that I had to come up to see what the all the fuss was about.”

He clapped Oikawa on the shoulder on his way back downstairs. “You’re a good man, Oikawa.”

Much later, Kyoutani pressed his palm to the same spot Matsukawa had squeezed on Oikawa’s shoulder, grunting, “You did good.”

Oikawa watched as the other man loped away, assumedly to go on his nightly run. Kyoutani’s litheness and speed had yet to suffer from any effects of his magic loss, even after he had stopped being able to transform fully into his preferred lupine form.

“Fuck your notes,” he had snarled, fangs bared when Oikawa had approached where he was curled up on the corner of the veranda, muscles and sinew a thin layer over barely-controlled rage and helpless anger. Oikawa had lifted his hands in the universal sign of surrender, carefully moderating his tone.

“No notes, Mad-Dog-chan. Just letting you know that Kin-chan left extra portions of food in the refrigerator if you’re hungry later.”

The front door had slammed open then, Yahaba storming out and immediately honing in on the pitiful tableau. The water being had marched right up to the shapeshifter, ignoring the half-formed threats as he wrapped himself securely around the larger form.

Oikawa had quietly taken his leave before the first tear could fall.

It was two days before Kyoutani rejoined them for meals again, seventy kilograms of surliness slipping back into its empty slot at the table as if it had never left. But Oikawa was acutely aware of the the subdued mood tainting the air, the one that had stained the general mood of mealtimes ever since Kindaichi lost his eye. It was hard to ignore the growing signs of strain amongst his new friends, even harder when one had been trained to pick at and pore over details and anomalies in a small research field.

Oikawa wished he could do something, anything that could help; he hated feeling useless. But that was what he was: useless in the face of something he couldn’t possibly ever understand no matter how many notes he took, relegated to the sidelines as a front-row spectator to a tragedy scripted in incomprehensible acts.

Yet a small part of him, the ugly, selfish part even he refused to acknowledge, was also looking forward to when _Iwaizumi_ finally succumbed to the loss of magic himself. From Oikawa’s observations, as the strongest, the head of the group would be the last to transition over to becoming fully human, which meant Iwaizumi would be likely the last of the bunch to change.

When that happened, screw research, Oikawa would be there to support him. For every day Iwaizumi had suffered in the transition - and all of Oikawa’s deductive reasoning and analytical skills had surmised that, given matters, it must be worse than the others - Oikawa would ensure the newly-formed man would live a day filled with nothing but smiles and laughter.

For while the cryptozoologist couldn’t claim that he fully understood what it might be like to lose such an integral component of oneself, he was completely aware of the fondness suffusing all his thoughts related to Iwaizumi. What had started as a relentless drive to prove the existence of a mythical beast was slowly softening into something gentler, yet no less complicated in nature.

Oikawa had never really had time for romantic entanglements, never considered them worthy of the effort that could be pumped into his studies instead. He knew he was good-looking, had shamelessly used it to his advantage several times. Careless with flirting, Oikawa easily charmed the people who blushed his way, but was also the first one out the door the minute things took a step towards something more serious, backing out before grasping hands and pouting lips could insist he invested something deeper in them.

But  bodiless, faceless Iwaizumi had not demanded anything of Oikawa; rather, it was Oikawa who did the demanding, pushing his way into the other being’s life. Iwaizumi had asked for neither friendship nor love, not even regard or respect. Iwaizumi had set Oikawa down the path that had guided him through the years unknowingly, and had been waiting at the end of it.

While his interest in Iwaizumi had evolved insidiously from awe to interest to affection, the realization of the change in his feelings was a thunderbolt out of the blue, One moment, Oikawa was lolling in bed, staring at the ceiling as he wondered what to ask Iwaizumi later during the day. The next, he was frozen, startled at sudden pleasure that had surged up at the thought of their daily meeting, warming his face more than the lazy sunlight could. The rest of the morning had been filled with confused, panicked thoughts as the cryptozoologist rifled through his memories, trying to pinpoint what had happened, when it had happened.

It was incomprehensible, illogical (really, Tooru, falling in love with a _voice,_ of all things?) and downright terrifying. By normal standards, Oikawa should have disappeared long before this ever came to happen, citing work and his research as excuses to bury himself in texts until the coast was clear.  

But here, with no place to run off to and no excuses to be given, Oikawa was left with his newly discovered feelings nestled within a heart that didn’t quite know what to do with them. He tried staying up in the library once, pens scattered around him as he filled the white space of multiple pages with feverish research questions. Some examined the potential triggers for this crush, others hypothesized the time frame in which it must have struck. Yet others listed the variables that had appeared in each contact situation and the roles they had played in affecting Oikawa’s developing feelings.

A sleepless night brought no satisfactory answers to any query except that it was surprisingly easy to love Iwaizumi Hajime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> re: headnote - Matsukawa mind-wiped a whole kingdom of people without getting their explicit consent in order to prevent a large majority from potentially committing suicide due to the loss of their magic. Wasn't sure if this needed a warning, but always better safe than sorry! 
> 
> Posting every new chapter always a little nerve-racking (Is OOC-ness happening? Does it all still make sense? Is the plot moving too fast? What if it's going downwards in the wrong way aaaaaahhhhsaldkajdlka ฅ(꒪∆꒪;)ฅ) but onwards this must go!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Halfway-point! I wasn't planning to update that quickly, but I wanted to put up a chapter on Christmas Day just because. (*´♡`*)

“Oh, it’s almost autumn already.”  Leaning against the window seat, Oikawa pressed his back against the sun-warmed wooden frame as drowsy eyes surveyed the view. Outside, the leaves, still clinging stubbornly to branches, were already starting to fade into shades of reds and browns around their edges even as they curled inwards. The vibrant hues reminded Oikawa of Hinata’s hair, and he wondered if his research team was still looking for him, if they had alerted the media regarding his unexplained disappearance. Neither Kyoutani nor Kindaichi had mentioned seeing any other people in the vicinity during their excursions outside - which, given the circumstances, was likely for the best. Still, it must be unsettling at the very least to have an acquaintance vanish into thin air, and Oikawa didn’t know the research team members well enough to be able to predict their actions with utmost confidence.

They’d yell at him if they found him, he was sure. Definitely Sawamura and Sugawara, at least, after all the relief. Oikawa really should care more about how they are likely worrying right now, and the energy they might be expending in order to search for him. But Oikawa’s attention, while finely honed and effortlessly focused on matters that interested him, was not unlimited. And right now, it prioritized the agony and struggles of the people he considered close enough to be friends. Plus, in this space, there was Iwaizumi...

“Yeah.” The reply tugged Oikawa out of his thoughts. Iwaizumi’s orb hovered near his head, presumably to look outside as well. This close, it felt almost as if Iwaizumi were seated beside him, speaking almost into his ear.

The researcher pressed his face against the glass, grinning as he spotted Kyoutani and Kindaichi making their way out of the back gate, Watari behind them. “Looks like the kids are going out to play.”

An amused snort. “Pretty sure they’re older than you, dumbass.”

“Pshh, unnecessary details.” Oikawa watched the small group until the foliage hid them from sight. “Ne, Iwa-chan, have you ever thought of what you will do once all of you are completely human? I mean,” he hurried on before Iwaizumi could answer, “you guys can’t just continue staying here in the long run. This place is beautiful, but it’s kind of in the middle of nowhere. There’s no internet, for god’s sake, or a working computer, or even a supermarket nearby.”

“Why am I not surprised that you’re worried about technology above everything else?” Iwaizumi’s tone was wry. “But I’m not too fussed about it, to be honest. The...We’ll probably do what the rest of our people did: move into Miyagi properly, maybe travel around until we find a place to settle down.”

“But what about money? And shelter? And are you all going to split and go your different ways?” The more Oikawa fretted, the larger the ball of worry grew. “Are you guys even prepared to deal with crowds of people again? I mean, sure, some of you used to live in Miyagi, but you’ve never done it fully human, right?”

The orb bumped into the side of Oikawa’s cheek. “Hey, don’t start hyperventilating on me. We’ll be okay. Granted, we _have_ been out of human society for a while, but a couple of us still have resources from when we lived in Miyagi. Might be a bit troublesome to access them again, but they should still be good to go. As for living as humans, it’s not as if we were flashing magic left, right and center in the middle of town. Again, it’ll take us some time to get used to it, but we’ll be fine, seriously.”

“But-”

“Put aside all that intellect for once, Idiotkawa, and have some faith in us.” The orb nudged him again companionably.

“Hey, Iwa-chan.” A carefully careless statement, issued in the lightest inflection Oikawa knew how to use. “I’ve got an apartment in Sendai. Out of my awesome generosity, if you need a place to stay until you get used to being human again, you can come stay with me.”

The orb went still, and Oikawa laughed to fill the silence, the sound a little too high and shrill. “It doesn’t have to be forever or anything. Maybe just until you get used to staring into mirrors and not hiding away from your own reflection or something - I don’t think you do a lot of that at the moment. And I’ll have you know I’m an _amazing_ roommate, Iwa-chan. I actually do laundry and vacuum and everything. O-of course, the others can come as well; we’ll work something out. I’ve got contacts and friends - with a couple of good excuses, we’ll find space for everyone to stay until they’re ready to rejoin society. Though teaching Maddog-chan enough manners to fit into Japan’s work force will be a challenge...”

“That sounds nice.” The answer was soft, almost wistful.

“It does, doesn’t it?” Oikawa’s shoulders slumped in relief. “Of course, this doesn’t mean you can laze around, Iwa-chan! I hope your cooking skills are decent, or maybe you can help with the general housework. Oh, and I know Mattsun keeps harping on about how all the ‘information will be invalid’, but you’re going to help me finish my Hibagon paper. After all these years, I’m not going to abandon it that easily. Don’t worry, I won’t put in anything that’ll lead back to any of you; there are research publications built on sketchier speculation and evidence, anyway. I’ll just photo-manipulate something so it’ll look authentic enough, put in a bit of the less important truths -”

“Hey, I’ve got a question for you,” Iwaizumi said, abruptly interrupting Oikawa mid-babble. “Why  _were_ you hunting me all this time?”

“Oh, you knew?”

“I was collecting research on magic, remember? You published quite a number of papers. Wasn’t hard to link your Hibagon back to myself, given some of the physical profiles and track descriptors. You would never have found me, by the way.”

Raising an eyebrow, Oikawa tried to prod at the Iwaizumi-orb, huffing as the small sphere danced away from his fingers. “Um, not to burst your bubble, but unless this is some kind of dream, I kind of already have, Iwa-chan. Found you, I mean.”

“Not now, dumbass. I meant before you came here. You wouldn’t have found me in the woods - I stopped venturing out ages ago. But that’s not the point -  why were you so keen on finding me?”

Oikawa fidgeted, hands suddenly cold. “Um, by any chance, do you remember saving a young boy from wild boars some twelve years ago?”

“Ah, that was...that was ages ago.” Iwaizumi’s voice turned distant, almost nostalgic. “It was during one of my last...but, yes. What about it?”

“Did you know...”  Oikawa’s words were tremulous; he ached to throw his arms around Iwaizumi, wanted nothing more than to bury his face in his neck, anchor himself around the other man’s shoulders. “Did you know, Iwa-chan. That was me. You saved _me_ back then. So, haha, joke’s on you - you saved the person who’s bugging you right now -”

“ _Oikawa_.” His name was but a sigh in Iwaizumi’s rough disbelief, a brief hitch of breath. “Oh god. That was _you_?”

A wet giggle bubbled up the researcher’s throat. “I wanted to meet you, to prove you exist to everyone, that you weren’t ‘a hallucination a kid’s mind conjured up’. But more than that, Iwa-chan, I,” Oikawa drew a quick breath, “I started looking for you because I wanted to - to _thank_ you. For everything. For proving to me back then that you were better than aliens, that you were _real._ ” He laughed, wiping at damp eyes. “But I guess I owe you two thanks now, since you saved me again after the cliff. Better late than never, right?”

“Better late than never,” Iwaizumi echoed. “Damn it, Oikawa. You could - you _should_ have just forgotten about it like normal people do. Who spends a fucking large part of their lives trying to prove something like this, something like _me_ exists? You were just a kid - why couldn’t you have just moved on?”

“Sheesh, Iwa-chan.” It was easy to scoff then, and Oikawa smiled, cocking his head. “It’s as if you’ve never met me.”

‘You are,” Iwaizumi chuckled, incredulous. “Really an idiot.”

“So I’ve been told many times. Which, by the way, is inaccurate, because I’m really, really smart.” The cryptozoologist looked at the orb, one corner of his mouth quirked. “I know I’m only human - all my notes have taught me that I don’t, that I can’t understand all of you, or ever fully comprehend how magic works. So I can’t save you, Iwa-chan, not the way you did me. But after it ends, please, let me help, okay? I owe you at least that much.”

Iwaizumi made a little sound, not quite a sigh, not quite a sob. “How you care so much, Oikawa Tooru? _Why_ do you care so much?”

The answer leapt to his lips, instantaneous. “How could I not?”

\---

Iwaizumi didn’t appear in the library the next day, no sound to be heard nor glow to be seen of the man, despite Oikawa waiting until the midday sun began to darken into evening.

Slightly unsettled, the researcher began hobbling out of the library, deciding to ask one of the others if they had any idea regarding what might have happened to cause Iwaizumi’s no-show. That notion dissipated immediately as a single howl, ragged and agonized, shattered the quietude of dusk, a summon to mourning.

Kindaichi turned fully human that night, his last connection to the magic of the earth wrenched from him beneath the trees he used to commune with, the same trees which no longer recognized him as one of their own.

\---

“Still waiting?”

Curled up in his usual armchair, Oikawa didn’t bother dignifying the question with an answer he knew Matsukawa didn’t expect. Instead, he flipped a page of the journal he had pulled from a random shelf, peering down at it. _‘Is there a large, unknown primate in China?_ ’ asked the title. The researcher wouldn’t know - he hadn’t processed a single printed word since he settled down and opened the text.

“I don’t think he’ll make it today either.” Matsukawa sounded apologetic, but also pragmatic. Oikawa would be more annoyed at how transparent he was apparently being if he weren’t so disappointed about Iwaizumi’s continued absence. Lifting his head, the researcher dredged up one of his oft-practiced smiles, flashing it at the man lounging in the doorway.

“It’s okay, Mattsun. My current company,” he raised the journal he had pulled from a random shelf, “is probably more entertaining anyway. Less grumpy too.”

The other man’s eyes were knowing. “Suit yourself. See you at dinner.”

Oikawa waited until the other man had left before allowing the smile to drop. It had been five days since Kindaichi had fully transitioned into being human, five days since Iwaizumi last showed up in the library for their daily chat. Stifling the urge to sigh, he started to read the journal in earnest. The research detailed the author’s observations and speculations regarding the Chinese _yeren_ , or ‘wildman’, and despite himself, Oikawa found himself getting wrapped up in evaluating the explanations, footnotes and graphical evidence the journal provided.

So caught up was he in analyzing the research’s authenticity, he almost didn’t notice the marble-sized sphere, dull and muddy, that squeezed itself into existence close to the armchair. It wasn’t until he heard a pained gasp that Oikawa’s head shot up, eyes zooming in on the too-small orb almost immediately.

“Iwa-chan? Is that - of course that’s you. Where have you been?” The cryptozoologist stiffened at the sound of another bitten-back hiss, soft and crackly in the silence. “What’s wrong? Are you ok?”

“Just…” Iwaizumi’s voice hitched, a cry caught behind gritted teeth. “Read to me. _Please_.”

 _No,_ Oikawa didn’t say.  _Not until you tell me_ _why are you suffering more than the others_. _Or_ _why you insist on staying hidden now, when you seemed fine all those years back when I first saw you._

Instead, he picked up the book again, cleared his throat and began reading. “It was also in the 1980s that certain hominoidal figures, including the North American sasquatch and the Chinese wildman, were gaining renewed attention, even to a measured extent amongst some anthropologists. Images of wildmen - creatures bearing a resemblance, sometimes striking, to the models of pre-sapiens hominins - are recognizable in many of the world’s cultures...”

He read for longer than an hour, pushing on through the dryness of his throat and tired eyes until the orb started to fade, stopping only when it had completely disappeared. Then, he pushed himself to his feet, steely resolution propelling him forward until he was banging at the door of the closest bedroom: Hanamaki’s.

“Is Iwa-chan’s power taking other people’s pain or something along those lines?” he asked the minute the door swung open, fear stripping his speech of his usual pleasantries and small talk. Hanamaki’s mouth parted, closed, pressed itself into a humorless smile.

“In a matter of speaking, I suppose.”

“How does he bear it?” Oikawa whispered, gripping his crutches harder. His knee had started to throb after the unexpectedly vigorous exertion; he ignored it.

The other being only shrugged. “Hell if I know. Iwaizumi’s always been a stubborn son-of-a-bitch.”

“How far along is he in becoming human? He’s the strongest, right?” Oikawa didn’t even have to listen to the response to know the answer to that. Hanamaki, for all his harping about losing his flight, had yet to shed even a single wing. Granted, the healer’s main power had been greatly reduced by his own admission, but if Oikawa’s calculations were right, that only meant Iwaizumi still had a long while ahead of him before his conversion ended.

A long while ahead that apparently promised isolation and pain, too much pain for Oikawa’s liking.

“Can’t you do anything to ease it?”

Wretchedness wrote itself into the lines of Hanamaki’s face. “Don’t you think we would have done something if we could? We’ve already done the best we can under the circumstances. Fucking hell, if there were anything else...” he muttered something under his breath, slumping.

“But,” Oikawa registered Matsukawa’s drawl before the other man came up behind Hanamaki, an arm wrapping around the healer’s thinner shoulders. “You yourself are helping Iwaizumi, in a sense. Remember what I said about Iwaizumi laughing? I wasn’t exaggerating then, and I’m not joking when I say your presence is… affecting him for the better.”

“But I’m not exactly helping ease Iwa-chan’s suffering,” Oikawa protested.

Matsukawa’s words were as cruel as they were kind. “Not even us magic users can do that, much less you, Oikawa. But don’t stop talking to him. I’m not going to say Iwaizumi needs a friend - he’s got us, after all - but whatever it is you do, he… he doesn’t need it per se, but whether or not he’ll admit it, he _wants_ it.”

Iwaizumi certainly made no mention of it the next day, proxy orb appearing on cue as if the previous day’s meeting had been but another standard afternoon. Kindaichi, who had been chatting with Oikawa about the most effective techniques of grilling corn evenly, sprung up from his seat at the sight of Iwaizumi’s sphere. “Ah, Oikawa-senpai! Give me a minute, I’ll leave.”

“You don’t have to run off, Kin-chan.” As loathe as Oikawa was to share Iwaizumi during their shared hour, he didn’t want to chase the other man out either. Kindaichi’s face was still drawn, the signs of grief hanging from long limbs like a shroud. “Maybe you’ll counter-balance Iwa-chan’s grumpiness.”

Iwaizumi’s grunt was halfhearted at best. “I’m not grumpy, dumbass.”

“Sorry, Iwaizumi-senpai, I think I’ll have to agree with Oikawa-san on that one.” Kindaichi smiled, small but sincere. “And I think Yahaba-senpai could use some help with the laundry anyway. Have fun, you two.”

“Come to think of it,” Oikawa wondered aloud as he watched Kindaichi leave, “Why don’t you appear anywhere else in this house, like, say, the kitchen or the downstairs hall?”

“It tires me out; s’much easier to have a fixed point. Hey,” Iwaizumi sounded diffident, almost tentative. “How’s your leg doing?”

The researcher picked at the edges of the greyish cast, worrying a hardened strand loose. “Ok, I guess? Keeping it clean has been tough; try as I might, water keeps insisting on rolling under the plaster. I don’t even want to think of how it must reek in there now, ugh.”

An exasperated sigh filtered through. “I meant the knee itself, Shittykawa. It’s been a while, right? Isn’t the cast due to come off soon?”

Truth be told, Oikawa was reluctant to have the cast removed. Not having to sit down in the shower would be much welcomed, and he was all too ready to return the crutches back to Hanamaki. But a healed knee meant Oikawa would be obligated to leave and rejoin his research team. A healed knee meant there would no longer be any excuses for him to stay in this strange residence with its equally strange inhabitants. A healed knee meant no more Iwaizumi.

So, instead of answering Iwaizumi, Oikawa forced a jaunty laugh. “Are you looking to kick me out already, Iwa-chan?”

The orb went silent, stayed that way for far too long before Iwaizumi replied. “Don’t you have people looking for you?”

“No fair, answering a question with another question.”

“No one ever said the world was fair.” The words, meant as a quip, came out a little too heavy, a little too true, and Oikawa’s heart ached.

“Such a pessimist. I certainly did _not_ miss that part of you these last few days.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. What do you want to talk about today?”

“Well, I’ve been thinking,” Oikawa pulled on a thoughtful expression, “given how annoyed you sound on most days, do you have a permanent crease in your forehead? Because I’m pretty sure you must have lots of wrinkles by now -”

The squeak that the orb smacked out of him was undignified at best, but the tiny bruise was worth it, if just to hear Iwaizumi rant about ‘dumb questions from an equally dumb researcher’, all questions about Oikawa’s knee forgotten.

“Say, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa said once he managed to stop snickering, “why don’t you talk with the others as well? Given how much they talk about you, I’m surprised no one’s complained about me monopolizing your time.”

“What gave you the impression that I don’t? I do, actually, from time to time.”

“You… do?” The researcher couldn’t recall a single time he’d seen any of the others talk to a floating orb, or to the air at random. “But when?”

“Whenever they want to, really.” The orb flickered. “It’s usually Matsukawa and Hanamaki who pop in to randomly annoy me. But Kindaichi’s been coming by more often these days.”

“Wait.” Oikawa’s brain was still stuck on the first half of the statement, the other man sitting up straight. “They can talk to you anytime they want… which means you let them see you in person?”

“Pretty much.”

“Iwa-chan, this favoritism will not do.”

Sputtering came from the orb. “Wha - _favoritism_? What the hell?”

“You just admitted to letting everyone else visit you except me,” Oikawa pointed out, very reasonably in his opinion. “In academics, that’s concrete evidence of a clear bias.”

“It’s different, you asshole, you know that.”

Oikawa rolled his eyes. “‘Because I’m not magical’, yeah, yeah, I’m very well aware of that. But seriously, Iwa-chan, even if you’re actually hideous or look like an old man, I’ll be super-nice about it. No matter what you actually think, I’ve got proper manners and everything. Besides, what would I possibly do if I saw you anyway? What _could_ I possibly do?”

“You might,” Iwaizumi started, then went completely silent. Oikawa waited, in case the other man was taking the time to sort through his thoughts, but Iwaizumi seemed content to let his answer lapse into that unanswered space.

A part of Oikawa wanted to press the issue, but Iwaizumi still sounded exhausted, voice frayed around the edges despite the normalness of their banter. So he spoke up, light and casual just before the stillness tipped into being too awkward. “Okay, what if I blindfolded myself? Would I be able to meet you in person then?”

Iwaizumi’s answer came too quickly, clearly relieved at the diversion Oikawa offered. “How exactly is that going to be any different from you listening to me over the orb, dumbass?”

You’d actually be _there_ , Oikawa thinks, even if I can’t see you. But he had decided to be nice the minute he had diverted the conversation, cutting Iwaizumi a break just this once. “It’ll have less static, for one - honestly, I’m not sure if your voice is really that gruff, or if your orb just has poor reception. Plus, I may not get to see you, but you’d get to see _me_ in my full glory. I don’t know how good that sphere is at broadcasting images, but I guarantee you I look _much_ more handsome in person.”

“Definitely gonna be more annoying in person as well,” Iwaizumi muttered. “But no, I don’t want you tripping all over the place; you’re still using crutches, for god’s sake.”

“I’d have you know that I’m a pro at using these now,” Oikawa wriggled a crutch around. “But please, Iwa-chan, it’s not as if you can’t see my prowess for yourself.”

“Oh, is that what they’re calling your flailing now? ‘Prowess’?”

And just like that, they were back in safe territory. The fragment of an answer embedded itself in Oikawa’s mind though, and the brunet turned it over and over, all his guesses at that Iwaizumi was going to say coming up short. Had Iwaizumi thought Oikawa would laugh? Or worse, scream and run? _Would_ Oikawa have screamed, run, laughed? Insult Iwaizumi? No, definitely not the last one, but did Iwaizumi know that?

A strange ache sat on Oikawa’s heart, uncomprehendingly heavy up to the moment sleep claimed him for the night.

\---

“Ne, Iwa-chan.” A question, seemingly out of the blue as Oikawa watched the world outside the window from where he had perched himself on the window sill. “Does the red string of fate exist?”

“What?” The confused frown was almost audible. “What kind of question is that?”

“A legitimate one. Does it, or doesn’t it?”

“No, of course not.”

Oikawa hummed, pressing his fingers against the cool glass. “Are you sure? Maybe it’s simply a facet of magic you’ve simply not encountered.”

A scoff. “I’m telling you it doesn’t exist, Stupidkawa.”

“Well, _I_ thought magic didn’t exist and look where I am.” The cryptozoologist gestured at the orb. “Consorting with one of Japan’s finest myths.”

“You’re the only one convinced I am the Hibagon.”

“Nope, not according to the publications that exists in the academic sphere. But we’re going off-topic here: you guys exist. Ergo, magic still exists. Which means the possibility of the red string of fate existing is very real. Logically, you have to admit I make sense.”

“We are magical, yes, but…” The voice behind the shadows clearly paused before it did the vocal equivalent of a brusque shrug. “It’s not the same thing.”

“But the red-string concept’s also magical in nature, isn’t it? For all we know, it might be someone’s magical ability in another region. Just think: two souls inevitably tied together through time and space, inevitably connecting, immediately knowing upon meeting…!”

“I can practically feel you sparkling from here,” replied Iwaizumi dryly. “And that notion is ridiculous and overly romanticized by bad fiction.”

“Maybe a little. But just you wait: now that I don’t have to prove that the Hibagon exists anymore, I’ve got the time and energy to devote to proving that the red string is a real phenomenon.”

“Good luck with that.”

Oikawa pouted, crossing his arms. “You were supposed to offer your help, Iwa-chan!”

“And do what exactly?” Iwaizumi asked incredulously. “Not exactly the most mobile at the moment, remember? And I just told you no such thing exists within Seijou’s borders.”

“Hmmm, what about if I threw some of these books at you to dig through?” Oikawa tapped his chin. “Can you still read?”

“Can’t really be arsed these days. Takes more effort than I’d like.”

“Lazy Iwa-chan. What about if I read to you?”

“Then what’s the difference between that and you reading by yourself?”

“Additional input, and a different perspective,” Oikawa responded blithely. “Plus, you’re kind of a field expert, if we look at it that way. So, you game?”

Iwaizumi exhaled audibly. “...if you don’t choose crappy reading material.”

The researcher wrinkled his nose, even as he pumped a mental victory fist at Iwaizumi’s reluctant agreement. “Please, my choice of texts is always stellar. And this is your library, so technically, you’re insulting your own collection.”

“I wasn’t exactly the most fussy in collecting stuff, okay? Wouldn’t put it past you to find the most banal texts of all the ones I own. But fine, yeah, whatever, I’ll help where I can. Happy?”

“Ecstatic.” Oikawa stopped bouncing in his seat as a realisation struck him, stilling his movements.

“You okay?” Iwaizumi noticed, of course he would. “You suddenly went quiet.”

“Mmmm.”  The researcher turned his next words over and over in his head, contemplative. “It’s nothing, really. Just...you don’t sound particularly keen on the whole red-string deal. Are you _that_ averse to its concept?”

Silence. Then, in bewilderment: “You’re being really weird today. First the whole red string deal, now this. What even brought this on in the first place?”

“Nothing in particular. I was just thinking to myself how convenient it would be to just know who you’re meant to be with. Don’t you think so?”

Iwaizumi let out a small snort. “Right. _Convenient._ ”

“You didn’t have to put it like that! You know what I mean.” Oikawa nibbled at his lower lip. “Just… the surety of knowing that at the end of a string is someone who’s… who’s _made_ to complete you, to be your other half, isn’t that a nice thought?”

“Definitely over-romanticized.”

“Iwa-chaaaaan.”

“Think about it. Even if it were to exist, it would probably be messy, and have a lot of limitations. Distance, for one, might be a problem. Culture, another. And while the concept is ideal in theory, imagine finding out you’re tied to, say, a murderer or a rapist.”

“Thanks for ruining the idea for me,” Oikawa muttered.

“Anytime.”

“Look, I’m not asking you to reason it out logically.” The researcher scrubbed a hand over his face.“I just thought...wouldn’t it be good to be sure of loving someone? To know that you can shower the person with your love and affection freely, knowing that he or she will definitely be worth it? That if you follow your string unerringly, you’ll definitely find someone waiting on the other end?”

“...Yeah.” The admission was quiet, almost intimate. “It _would_ be nice, I suppose, if the idea of the red-string were real in some capacity. If I… if one could know for sure that someone will be worth the effort you’ll inevitably pour into the relationship.”

Oikawa wondered who Iwaizumi was thinking about, who it had been who caused the wistful longing that saturated his words. Had it been someone he knew before he went into isolation? Another magical being? A part of Oikawa, the selfish facet buried deep within him, wanted Iwaizumi to be dreaming of a researcher with fluffy brown hair, with a penchant for too much curiosity and an unadvisable spark for a person he had never even properly seen with his own eyes.

But, for all Iwaizumi’s accusations of Oikawa being too idealistic,  the researcher’s pragmatism knew better than to entertain that wish for too long.

Iwaizumi was still talking, tone grimmer now. “But at the same time, I’m glad it doesn’t exist. This way, I don’t have to pity the poor person who might have been saddled with me.”

“Eh? Iwa-chan, you may be a brute with a bit of an anger problem, but,” Oikawa swallowed around a lump in his throat. “But the person on the other end of your string… I’m sure she would count her blessings for being tied to you.”

Iwaizumi’s laughter, when it came, was harsh, hard and bleak. “Heh, count his blessings? More like curse God for his misfortune.”

“Honestly, you guys make it sound like being a human is terrible.” Oikawa leant his head against the shelf, closing his eyes. “I get it, I really do - it _is_ terrible. Mere humanity can’t compare to being who you are right now. I’m not magical, but even I can’t begin to imagine how agonizing it must be to lose a core part of yourself. But...would the loss of magic change you _that_ much? I can’t even see your magic right now, Iwa-chan - hell, I don’t even _know_ what your magic is because you won’t tell me properly. And you know what? I can’t imagine you being any less grumpy, or any less…” _Wonderful. Loyal. Strong_ . “Any less _you_ just because you’re human. And I’m damn sure whoever you’d be linked to would agree. Take it from this human right here. Unless you’re going to say I’m a crap human or something, which, seriously, don’t.”

“No,” a soft acknowledgement. “No, you’re not a crap human at all, Oikawa. But, you don’t get it. It’s not that simple. I…” Iwaizumi’s voice stopped. When he next spoke, it was already distant. “I’ve got to go. We’ll talk tomorrow, ok?”

The orb whisked out of sight, leaving Oikawa in an empty library, with an even emptier feeling eating away at him.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy new year, guys! ೕ(•̀ᴗ•́)

“Iwa-chan, on a scale of one to ten, how adventurous are you feeling right now?”

“No.”

Oikawa narrowed his eyes at the orb. “‘No’ is not a number.”

“I don’t know what you’ve got planned, but I already don’t like it.”

“Oh c’mon, Iwa-chan, don’t be such a fuddy duddy. You said you weren’t limited to only appearing in the library, right? How’s the front porch? Too far? Will it drain you a lot? We could always have you a little more inside -”

“Whoa, whoa, wait,” Iwaizumi interrupted. “What’s this about the porch?”

“Just hear me out, okay? Rein in the angry-old-man vibes for once -”

“For the last time, I’m _not_ an angry old man.”

“See, there you go again.”

“Just tell me what the hell you want, Oikawa,” Iwaizumi sighed.

“Since the weather today is good and all, Kindaichi thought it would be fun to maybe have lunch outside, sort of like a picnic.” Oikawa flashed the orb a charming grin. “And it really is lovely weather, Iwa-chan, the leaves are all this gorgeous shade of red-orange now. So I-” _didn’t want you to be the only one left inside this shell of a house by yourself._ “- thought that this would be an amazing opportunity for all of us to hang out together at least once, right? And by all of us, I mean everyone, including me and you.”

Iwaizumi’s reply, when it came, was cautious. “Just the porch?”

“Yeah, just up to the porch. Unless it’s too taxing on you; like I said, we could always have it just a little closer into the house -”

“No, the porch is fine. I think...I should be able to manage an hour or so.” The orb bobbed slowly, then a little more surely. “When are you guys planning to do it?”

“Um.” Oikawa pulled out the most angelic smile in his arsenal. “Right now?”

“What the fu - _right now_?” A few more expletives, muffled by presumably Iwaizumi’s hands, floated through before the other man got himself under control. “Seriously, Oikawa, you can’t just, just _spring_ these kinds of things on someone! What would you have done if I had refused?”

Oikawa didn’t even have to think about it. “Then we wouldn’t have gone.”

The orb froze in the middle of its frenzied movement. “We… wouldn’t? But…what about you?”

“Unlike the others - which by the way, still favoritism - I’ve only got one hour with you per day. If I were to go with them, I won’t be able to chat with you today. And you’re not getting out of our daily conversations that easily, Iwa-chan.”

“Honestly, every single time I think I’ve gotten the hang of you…”Iwaizumi’s huff was more resigned than annoyed. “Well, let’s go then.”

It was a novel experience, exiting the library with Iwaizumi’s presence by his shoulder murmuring quiet reminders to “lift your crutches properly” and “don’t _rush_ , dammit, you’re practically asking for another fall”.

“Huh, you actually managed to talk Iwaizumi into it.” Matsukawa whistled as Oikawa carefully maneuvered his way down the stairs. “Color me impressed.”

“I’m not.” Hanamaki’s smirk mirrored Matsukawa’s as he did a loop around the small orb. “But then again, I told you so, didn’t I?”

“Stop being assholes and get on it with it, ”Iwaizumi grumbled, as the younger beings gathered around, Kindaichi and Watari besieging the orb with chatter regarding the food they had packed for their impromptu lunch-picnic. Even Kyoutani seemed less angry as the group started to move outside into the crisp air, eventually settling on the wooden patio just outside the front door.

The mood was light-hearted, so different from the bitterness that was starting to stain the passing of time, each new day bringing with it magical divestment in some form or another. Yet, despite Yahaba’s slowly-solidifying form and the complete loss of Kindaichi’s magic still looming over them, it wasn’t hard to be caught up in the whole-hearted laughter that blanketed the afternoon.  

Oikawa happily nibbled on an onigiri even as he cheered on the impromptu wrestling match that had broken out between Kyoutani and Watari. Plates of sweet potato and _sanma_ were laid out neatly in between the pot of oden and a bowl of river-worn pebbles - a veritable spread given the dwindling of the supply runs Watari made.

“This is delicious!” Oikawa nudged Kindaichi companionably. “Did you make all this, Kin-chan? Good job!”

“Ah, not quite. Kunimi and Watari helped quite a bit.” Still, the pink on Kindaichi’s cheeks communicated his pleasure at the compliment. Oikawa beamed before Iwaizumi’s orb caught his eye from where it hovered over the spread.

Blinking, he swallowed the bite of rice in his mouth. “Iwa-chan, come to think of it, don’t you eat?”

“Sometimes, I guess. I don’t really have to, but it’s nice every once in awhile.”

“Oh right. You did say you liked agedashi tofu once.”

“Ah, you remember that?” Iwaizumi sounded surprised.

“Yup~” Oikawa tossed him a peace sign with his fingers. “Awed at my memory power yet?”

“Nah. Just taken aback at the fact that you can recall details like those, but can’t seem to remember how not to be an idiot half the time.”

“Wow, and here I was thinking you had gotten less mean. Guess what they say about mellowing out with time is false.”

“That,” Iwaizumi said, deadpan. “Or maybe it’s just you.”

Kindaichi’s giggle-snort at the retort was ridiculous enough to set Kunimi chuckling, which in turn, caught Matsukawa and Hanamaki until they were all laughing, even Iwaizumi. Oikawa peeked through eyelashes damp with humor at the sphere, spilling Iwaizumi’s whole-hearted mirth into their midst. This close, it wasn’t hard to imagine Iwaizumi sitting beside him, shoulder to shoulder, laughter tickling the cusp of his ear. So vivid was the image that Oikawa was suddenly filled with the irrepressible, irrational urge to lean in and brush his lips over the glowing surface of the orb. Would it burn him? Would it sting? Would Iwaizumi even feel it, huddled up where he was within the house?

It would be worth it, the researcher decided recklessly. Time was short; Iwaizumi was already asking about the condition of his knee. It wouldn’t be too long before the cast could come off, followed by limping, then walking. Once he could walk, even if they would miss him, Oikawa had no delusions that the small group of Seijou people would let him stay. Unlike the others, he had no real link, nothing to bind him to this motley bunch of fantastical beings. That they considered him a friend was clear, but he was still, at best, a stranger - time and time again, his notes and records had only served to remind him that he still stood on the outskirts, ignorant of the nature and rules that governed his new companions’ existence. If the cryptologist was sure of anything, it was that their suffering was meant to be private from even his eyes, their loss hidden from the sight of the world.

But if there was even the slightest possibility that they’d tolerate his continued presence, Oikawa would, in a heartbeat, linger as long as he could. Not because the changes being wrought in everyone was a treasure trove of information; it had stopped being about clinical research ages ago. A part of him wanted to be a support, any kind of support, for his new friends.

But the larger part of him wanted to be there for Iwaizumi, plain and simple. If you had told Oikawa that he would develop a fixation on an unseen voice months ago, he would have laughed, eyes narrowed at the unfunny joke. And yet, here he was, irrevocably smitten by a man he had never seen.

In hindsight though, it wasn’t as unexpected as it might have seemed on the surface: Iwaizumi may have been hidden from sight, but it wasn’t hard to get to know the man through the bluntness of his replies, through the tiredness that would slur his voice, through the casual banter on the easier days. And so, through their many conversations, Oikawa had fallen, quietly, uncomprehendingly, for the man behind the voice.

Go figure, the researcher thought ruefully, that the admiration that he had harboured for the Hibagon would metamorphosize into love, refined thus within this house of transition. Still, the more he thought about it, the more resolved he became to try and kiss Iwaizumi’s orb. Even if he shut him out and refused to talk to Oikawa after, it would be worth the effort if it meant the researcher could kiss Iwaizumi at least _once._

So Oikawa leant in, stealthy, the heat of the sphere already brushing his cheek as he inched closer. Just as his lips might have met warmth though, a sudden yell pierced the chilly air. Everyone’s attention immediately honed in on the source of the sound as Kyoutani stumbled backwards, eyes blown wide in shock. Gripped tightly in his hand was a large, uneven rock slab. And Watari’s back-

Where the stone slab had once been, scarred pale _human_ skin peeked through.

What had been merriment only scant moments earlier immediately disintegrated as the others scrambled to approach Watari, stopping an arm’s length away from him as the shorter man raised a trembling hand to his arm. The touch, soft as it were, flayed the surface of the stone as if it were diamond, flakes falling to the ground like dried scabs. Watari keened again, a long, distraught wail, falling to his knees amidst the chips of stone and rock.

Amidst the commotion to get to Watari, no one noticed the small choked sound Iwaizumi made. When Oikawa turned, eyes wildly searching for the familiar shape, the tiny orb had already faded away.

\---

The day after the rocks started shedding from Watari’s body, Hanamaki sought Oikawa out after dinner, blankness draped over his usually-expressive features. The researcher eyed him, wary even as he kept his voice light.

“Anything up, Makki?”

Wordlessly, the healer folded himself until he was hovering near Oikawa’s leg, large hands reaching out towards his injured knee. Oikawa jerked his leg back, startled, but the cast slowed his movement and it was no great effort on Hanamaki’s part to wrap his fingers around where vulnerable flesh peeked out above the stiff plaster.

“Waaa! What are you...” Oikawa’s voice trailed off as tendrils of not-quite-electricity crackled, sparking off Hanamaki’s arms. They raced, lightning-quick, down the healer’s hands, leapt from the bend of his knuckles to loop, lasso-like around Oikawa’s thigh before slithering down along the skin into the cast. There was a bright stab of agony as what felt like a hundred tiny arrows pierced into Oikawa’s knee, but the pain was almost immediately sedated by a warm feeling of such wellness and care that the researcher couldn’t suppress the soft sound of contentment that escaped his lips.

Hanamaki’s face looked anything but tender though, hair messy as if he had run the self-same fingers gripping Oikawa’s legs through the pink strands one too many times. There was a strange grimness to the whole situation that the researcher couldn’t quite put his finger on, and it was alarming enough for Oikawa to force his wits together, panic pushing past the languid haze.

“Makki,” he slurred, pushing sloppily at Hanamaki’s shoulders, “Makki, what are you doing?”

“Speeding the healing up.” The answer was matter-of-fact, almost crisp. This uncharacteristic oddness prodded at Oikawa’s mind, shaking it free of the delicious warmth cocooning it as a sense of anxiety began to seep in the cracks.

“But why? It’s already… doing alright on its own, right? You said...” Oikawa attempted to refocus, forcefully sharpening his tone. “You said you fixed most of the damage previously.”

“Because Iwaizumi said to.” Hanamaki didn’t look up, attention trained studiously on Oikawa’s knee. The cryptozoologist’s frown deepened, and he started tugging at the lines curled around his leg.

Hanamaki scowled, swatting at him. “Oi, stop that, asshole.”

“Not until you tell me what’s going on.”

“You think I don’t want to tell you fucking everything?” Fury flashed briefly across Hanamaki’s face, was just as quickly banked. “Look, all I can say is that you can’t stay here much longer.”

“Why not?”

“Can’t tell you, sorry. But Iwaizumi wants you out. The sooner, the better.”

Frantic, Oikawa tried a different tack. “But, Makki, using your magic, isn’t it draining? Isn’t it going to make you human faster?”

“Yes.” The healer’s eyes were regretful as they met Oikawa’s own distraught ones. “But in this case, it’s not my call. Iwaizumi said to.”

Somehow, Hanamaki’s words sounded like an apology, an admission.

“Don’t, Makki,” Oikawa begged. “ _Don’t.”_

“I have to.” _Sorry,_ Hanamaki didn’t say, but it hung, heavy over their heads.

By the time Hanamaki stopped, reeling backwards from what was clearly exhaustion, Oikawa couldn’t deny the immediate improvement he could feel within his knee. Wriggling it around within the plaster confirmed the much reduced pain, dulled now to the stiff rigor of a long-unused limb.

“I’ll break the cast open sometime this week, it should be mostly fine by then.” Hanamaki met Oikawa’s eyes once again, held it briefly before looking away. “Shouldn’t take more than two or three more sessions after that.”

Not enough time left, Oikawa translated mentally as he shouldered his way past Hanamaki’s slumped form, but enough for now.

Slamming the wide doors of the library open as loudly as he could was cathartic, but only minimally so. Gritting his teeth, Oikawa stomped his way over to his usual conversation spot, whirling around to glare about him.

“Come out!” he shouted at the air, fists painful where they squeezed the rubber sponges of the crutch handles. “Come out now, you fucking coward or I swear I’ll knock over every shelf in this room. Don’t test me, I’ll fucking do it!”

Silence. Oikawa seethed, anger an acrid force thrumming hot under his skin. The bookshelves were large and heavy, towering over his head like disapproving witnesses, but fury recklessly dismissed the impossibility of even moving one of them. Placing his hands on the closest one, he took a deep breath and shoved. The movement sent him rocking back and Oikawa winced, eyes squeezing shut as he steadied himself on his bad knee. Then he straightened his shoulders, and pushed again, and again, uncaring as to how his knee, unused to having any form of weight on it for so long, screamed pain from where it had to brace his body. A rain of thuds rose to the ceiling as a flurry of other books hit the carpeted floor, and still Oikawa slammed his weight around, using elbow, shoulder, anything that would move this fucking thing -

The shelf finally started to rock, creaking laboriously as it hovered on the verge of tipping over on, oh, Oikawa himself -

“ ** _What the fuck is wrong with you_**.” The roar blared out of nowhere, sonorous in its rage. The shelf froze mid-fall, its shadow hanging over Oikawa’s form before an unseen force slammed it back into its original position as if someone had simply pressed a ‘rewind’ button. “ _What the fuck, Oikawa_.”

“What the fuck is wrong with _you_?” Oikawa countered, equally livid. A glance around showed him no orb in the vicinity, but Iwaizumi had never really needed a physical representation of himself, had he? “You don’t get to decide when to throw me out without telling me, Iwa-chan!”

“It’s never been your decision to make!”

“Yeah, fuck you too!” Oikawa wanted to punch something, settled instead for driving his fist into the shelf. The air shuddered, and he took vindictive pleasure in that, allowing the agony radiating up his arm to fuel his anger. “Who are _you_ to decide you can make my decisions for me?”

“For fuck’s sake, this is why I told Hanamaki that we shouldn’t have taken you in in the first place -”

“Too late, you already did. And unless you can rewind time, you can’t fix this fuck-up. Iwaizumi.” Oikawa’s voice cracked, and he sucked in a fortifying breath, savagely damming his tears in. “Iwa-chan. In case you’ve forgotten, I’m not Mattsun, or Makki, or any one of the people you can, can just command. I don’t have to listen to you. So why can’t… why can’t you just _ask_?”

“Would you even agree to listen, much less leave?” Iwaizumi’s own voice was a wreck, hoarse and raw in the aftermath of his anger. “Don’t lie to me, Oikawa, would you?”

“Why are you even trying to get me to leave now, Iwa-chan? Because, you know, I was under no delusion that I would get to stay after my knee heals.” _Liar,_ his mind whispered, but Oikawa had long stopped paying attention to logical thought. “But forcing Makki to speed it up? What the fuck are you playing at?”

“You can’t stay anymore. It’s...” Iwaizumi’s voice faltered. “It’s no longer safe.”

“Don’t bullshit with me,” Oikawa snarled. “Don’t lie to my face and tell me it’s for my own good.”

“Fucking hell, Oikawa, it _is_ for your own good.”

“Really?” The researcher’s laugh was humorless. “Oh, this should be good, do go on.”

A frustrated growl echoed through the enclosed space. “I don’t have to explain it to you.”

“You better damn well do, if you want me to leave without making a fuss.” Oikawa slammed a crutch down for emphasis. “I’m a fucking researcher. Show me evidence, proof, _anything_ that says that what you’re doing is ‘for my own good’ and I’ll concede.”

“I don’t have to do anything -”

Oikawa clicked his tongue. “ _Bzzz_. Wrong answer, Iwa-chan. Try again.”

The sound of rumbling echoed through the library as the shelves rattled. “You selfish bastard, just because _you_ want to stay for some for some godforsaken misguided reason-”

“This selfish bastard can help you be human.” A weak excuse, but Oikawa forged on anyway. “Someone has to - I mean, look at you right now, clearly you’re out of practice. _I_ can do that.”

“You don’t understand, you can’t -” Iwaizumi made an aborted sound. “You can’t help me be _human_ , Oikawa.”

“You don’t know that.” Oikawa slumped against the wooden panelling of the shelf closest to him. They had stopped shaking, he noted distantly. “You can’t know that.”

“I _do_ , I -” Iwaizumi stopped, his words sliced off as if it were a call disconnected. Oikawa allowed himself to slide to the floor, mindful of his knee as he settled into as comfortable a position as he could. When Iwaizumi finally spoke again, he sounded defeated. “Why don’t you want to leave? Don’t you have friends? You said there are people looking for you. And I’m sure you have family waiting for you to return. Don’t you miss them?”

“Oh, Iwa-chan. You’d be a terrible researcher. The worst really.” Oikawa closed his eyes. “You’re asking all the wrong questions. Why don’t you try asking me why I want to stay?”

“Why…” Iwaizumi asked, shaky and small. “Why would you want to stay, Oikawa Tooru?”

“Because I love you.”

It was surprising how easily the confession slipped from his lips. Or perhaps not, given how it had been at the forefront of Oikawa’s thoughts for far too long now. He waited, heart hammering beneath his ribcage for something, anything. A blast of fury, maybe, maybe incredulous laughter -

Instead, something shimmered, pressing itself into existence - the orb? No; the strange metallic material rippled, stretched larger even as it fitted itself into an invisible mold - first, the shape of thighs, then a torso, flowing upwards to form the nuances of a neck, then a chin, a pair of lips -

Oikawa stared, mouth falling open as Iwaizumi stood above him, skin glinting bronze in the lights of the library. No, not quite Iwaizumi - the features of this man were blurry, fuzzing in and out as if the sculptor were working from indistinct memory.

“I-Iwa-chan?”

The figure was unmoving, even as Oikawa struggled to rise to his feet. Its chest didn’t rise nor fall, still as a half-finished statue. When it (he?) finally lifted its head to look at the researcher, the movement was jerky, almost puppet-like. Unfocused eyes faced Oikawa, and the latter repressed a small shudder at the eeriness of the unliving mannequin. Instead, he focused on committing as much as he could to memory - the short spiky hair, the sharp cut of a jawline, the thickness of its arms and the width of its shoulders.

The figure’s, Iwaizumi’s, mouth moved. “Say that again.”

“Eh? Oh.” Oikawa resisted the urge to reach out and touch the figure. Instead, he dug into the wells of his emotions to infuse his declaration with as much sincerity and affection as he could. “I love you, Iwa-chan. I really do.”

“But…” The expression on the figure didn’t shift from its serene mien, but Iwaizumi’s voice was bewildered. “For the love of god, Oikawa, _why_? You’ve never even met me in person.”

“Wow, I didn’t expect you of all people to be so shallow, Iwa-chan. Love isn’t just based on physical appearances, you know.” Oikawa pressed a hand to where his heart was racing wildly, pounding hard beneath his palm. “People like me, we work from evidence, remember? So let me tell you what I’ve gathered through completely scientific means. You’re powerful. You are strong - maybe physically, definitely mentally. You care, maybe too much, for everyone under your care. You are stubborn, grumpy, an old-man mentality. You are kind, you endure. You suffer in silence, and you bear so, so much on your own.”

His voice trembled, but still Oikawa soldiered on. “Your friends adore you, do you know that, Iwa-chan? Do you know how hard they strove to protect you from the stranger who went poking around? What kind of man would incite that kind of loyalty? I wanted to know, so I found you a-and we started talking. Yes, we only get an hour or so a day, ‘what’s an hour of conversation’, right? But just talking to you, I… I can see your _heart._ Isn’t that enough? No, let me rephrase that - it _is_ enough, for me at least. So…” Oikawa’s breath hitched on a half-swallowed sob. “Don’t turn me away, Iwa-chan. Please.”

Iwaizumi didn’t respond. But the figure lifted its arms and grasped Oikawa by the elbows, drawing him closer. The feeling of cold bronze pressed against his lips was jarring and too cold, altogether disconcerting but _Oikawa was kissing Iwaizumi_ , _oh god._ The uncanny strangeness of kissing what what essentially a statue was easily subsumed by the rush of stunned exultation and Oikawa looped his arms around the figure, tilting his head to better fit himself against the cool mouth even as he wriggled further into the other’s space.

Then the chill melted into something warm, something half-chapped yet soft that deftly stole Oikawa’s breath into itself, Iwaizumi meeting Oikawa’s fervor with his own. The grip on the researcher’s arm shifted from steel to merely firm,  skin curled around skin -

Almost as quickly as it had happened, the figure - _Iwaizumi_ \- dissolved into air and dust. Weight abruptly left unsupported, Oikawa squeaked as he toppled over, landing on the ground in an undignified heap.

“Iwa-chan? What -”

“I shouldn’t have done that,” Iwaizumi muttered. “Damn it. _Fuck._ ”

“Iwa-chan.” The researcher scrambled as quickly as he could to his feet, the earlier joy degenerating into panic at the self-flagellation coloring Iwaizumi’s tone. “Iwa-chan, I -”

“Don’t. Just…please. _Don’t_. I’ve got to go.”

“You can’t do this!” He was shouting, his voice scratchy and desperate, but Oikawa couldn’t care less about sounding mellifluous in that moment. “Iwa-chan, you can’t - don’t shut me out-!”

“Sorry, Oikawa. I don’t think I can play fair this time.” The brunet’s breath whooshed out of him as something yanked him violently upwards then threw him out of the large room in a smooth motion. Behind him, the library’s large doors, opened ever since the day Oikawa had stumbled across them, slammed shut. “But take my word for it: if you ever saw me, you wouldn’t want to stay anyway.”

“I DO WANT TO STAY!” Oikawa yelled, battering at the doors with his fists, disregarding the renewed pain of earlier bruises and wounds on his knuckles. “Iwa-chan, don’t - _please_! -”

“You don’t understand,” Iwaizumi sounded wrong, voice deformed with despair. “I’m an _abomination_.”

“You can’t make my mind up for me!” Oikawa fired back. “Iwa-chan you aren’t an abomination-”

“I’m sorry,” a whisper, low and final, before it wisped out, leaving Oikawa to sink to the floor, tears streaming down his face.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ow, ow, ow.

Hanamaki came again the next day, drifting into the living room slightly lopsided. Neither he nor Oikawa mentioned the missing section of wing, its edges frayed as if a careless child had tugged on it. Their session this time around was faster and silent, despite the extra work Hanamaki had to do on the injuries around Oikawa’s knuckles.The healer’s hands practically slipped off Oikawa’s leg when he was done, leaden by his sides as sweat rolled down the sides of his face. If Oikawa were to look hard enough, he would have seen the damaged wing crumbling further, infinitesimal atoms breaking off and dissolving into the afternoon.

But Oikawa had no time to look. He had other plans.

Yahaba jumped as the researcher entered the kitchen, and Kindaichi spilt his glass of water in his haste to step out of Oikawa’s way. The others had been skittish around Oikawa since the picnic. Understandable enough - he was the unpredictable element amidst them, the only one with the very real potential of ruining with his ignorance what they had struggled to contain within this confined place.

It hurt nonetheless.

Oikawa didn’t allow it to faze him, merely hobbling over to the fridge to grab a box of juice. Sharp eyes kept a lookout for anything that looked out of place, potentially signalling the fox-hole of a particular person, but Oikawa didn’t put too much effort into actually scanning the kitchen. For one, Seijou must surely be aware that the cryptozoologist would spend a lot of time in this particular place, whether or not he knew their secret. Having a hidden room located here would be risky, and Iwaizumi was clearly not fond of risks. Also, Yahaba was still in the vicinity, watching him apprehensively. The naiad was weakening - it showed in the other boy’s appearance, more flesh than liquid now. Regardless, his innate ability seemed intact, and it was likely that he’d simply tighten the magic hiding Iwaizumi from sight if he spotted Oikawa searching too hard.

As he moved to leave the kitchen, a hand reached out, grasped his shoulder tentatively - Kindaichi.

“Oikawa-san, I… we...” the newly-turned-man’s words petered out and he stood there, uncertain and distressed. The brunet didn’t blame him - what could he say?  False platitudes would not be appreciated, and Kindaichi was too kind for lies.

Oikawa took pity on him, reaching up to squeeze his arm lightly. “It’s ok, Kin-chan. I understand.”

Kindaichi wrung his hands, but said nothing more as the researcher made his way past him into the corridor.

The library remained steadfastly closed, and Oikawa growled, kicking the ornate panelling once in reined-in frustration.

“I’ll find another way in,” he avowed. “You’re not getting away that easy.”

And so the rest of the day was taken up by the researcher’s diligent search efforts - prodding at walls, looking under picture frames, wincing as he slowly crawled along floor panellings to tap against them. Mealtimes saw him carefully mapping out the structure of the house onto paper, with searched areas crossed off. The evening saw no payoff for his hard work, save for sore muscles as Oikawa collapsed into bed, bone-tired.

The next day, he got up and repeated the process. Hanamaki would come and zap Oikawa’s before the latter got up and start searching new sections of the residence, only stopping for food and the occasional toilet break. If Iwaizumi wanted him out of this place, Oikawa thought grimly, he would have to say it to the researcher’s face. Or chuck him out of the place altogether, but Oikawa was banking on the grace of his still-healing knee in preventing that outcome.

Surprisingly, no one stopped him. Kyoutani bared his teeth at Oikawa, blunted and even, but merely watched mutinously as Oikawa hobbled around his room. Watari only spoke up to tell Oikawa that it was time for dinner while the other rummaged through the stone man’s wardrobe, poking at its wooden back “in case a Narnia-like entrance emerges. I wouldn’t put it past Iwa-chan to have something like that.”

Not even Matsukawa attempted to bar him from digging Iwaizumi out. All the other man did when Oikawa made his way into his and Hanamaki’s bedroom was watch, face inscrutable. When the researcher left, his low ‘good luck’ trailed him out.

They weren’t stopping him, but the weight of their eyes were heavy nonetheless, latched onto Oikawa’s every move. They were waiting, but Oikawa had not the patience nor heart to ask what for.

Of Iwaizumi himself, there was no sign; neither voice nor shadow betrayed any sign of his presence in the house. But Oikawa had expected as much. It didn’t bother him, he thought savagely to himself, ignoring how it ached as he filed away another failed search for the day.

The cryptozoologist’s break, when it came, wasn’t the product of his labor. Hanamaki, reduced to two flimsy wings, had finally deemed the researcher’s leg healed enough to dispose of the cast, supervising Watari with a critical eye as the half-stone man sawed the dirty plaster off. The section of leg beneath it was shrunken and shrivelled, the skin ghost-pale. But the swelling in the knee itself had clearly subsided, and when Oikawa took a shaky step on it, it was clear that Hanamaki’s power had stretched into imbuing it with strength. The newly healed area was still tender, but it bore the researcher’s body weight without giving in.

“S’about time you returned those crutches to me.” Hanamaki’s tone was anything but humorous though, and Oikawa’s thin smile mirrored his own. He nodded his thanks to the healer, then proceeded to get up and continue scouring Yahaba’s room.

That night itself, when he was sure everyone else was asleep, the researcher snuck out of the house, eyeing the large library window perched high on the second floor from the garden. Given its height and width, it wasn’t completely inaccessible if one were interested in putting effort into reaching it. And Oikawa was very willing to put in effort.

 _Tomorrow_ , he promised himself. _Tomorrow, I will get a ladder somehow - there’s got to be one somewhere, and I will break that thing, glass be damned._

He ignored the muted pain still thrumming thick within his knee, plodding back in before his breath started to mist in the cold.

The knee had held out admirably in the face of Oikawa’s activities all day. Still, it had only been pronounced usable that morning itself, and Oikawa had always been a bit careless about his general well-being when he was distracted in a particular venture. A character flaw, an American professor had once told him, shaking his head. _You get too caught up in your ideas, Tooru, that you forget that you need to keep yourself alive to actually execute them._

Thus, it was unsurprising that the knee, still unaccustomed to holding Oikawa’s weight unsupported for long periods of time, finally gave way on the landing leading towards the guestroom, dropping Oikawa to the ground in a mess of limbs.

What was surprising was the supposedly solid wall Oikawa had fallen _through._

His first, instinctive thought was that this was impossible.The pain radiating from his shoulder where it had slammed into plush (but thin) carpet vehemently disagreed, dispelling all the sleepiness fuzzing Oikawa’s brain as instantaneously as a bucket of cold water to his head. Pushing himself up on his elbows, he stared at the wall, still seemingly intact except for the two spots where his legs looked embedded into the concrete. Prodding it felt like pressing fingers through thick oatmeal, sticky and viscous.

Fascinated, the researcher pushed his fingers, then his whole arm through the wall again before hurriedly pulling it, along with the rest of his body, out. Unbelievable or not, he’d rather not take the chance of reality suddenly leaving him half-stuck in a wall. Turning his head, he saw a darkened corridor, sparse and bare, yet free of dust or dirt.

Unbidden, silent laughter bubbled up his throat and Oikawa dropped his head to his chest, shoulders trembling with triumph. “Ah, Yahaba-chan,” he murmured. “Guess you can’t hide this anymore, huh?”

No one answered, and no one came running at the quiet noise - the fall had gone completely unnoticed. Oikawa scrambled to his feet, adrenaline chasing the last of the day’s fatigue away as he looked around himself. Despite the suddenness of the situation, he felt strangely calm, almost detached as he started to hobble down the hidden corridor.

If this space had been planned for, it hadn’t been done with much thought - it was barely large enough for a single man to go through. Really, Oikawa mused, it was as if Yahaba had simply thrown up a partition blocking this particular area from sight. He probably wasn’t far off the mark, but any speculation as to how the illusion user might have structured his mirage to seamlessly reduce the house and hide this small corner was immediately banished by the sight of a door.

It was nondescript, a simple wooden affair with an equally plain doorknob. Oikawa stared at it for far too long, indecisive now that Iwaizumi was within reach. Because he _was_ within reach now - there was no doubt in Oikawa’s mind that behind this door lay the one person he wanted most to meet.

Yet, Iwaizumi had taken great pains to never reveal himself to the researcher in any way. A part of Oikawa, the section governed by logic and rationale, screamed at him to back away, to return to the main part of the house and pretend that he hadn’t found anything. _You know where this place is now,_ it argued, _you can come back once when your knee is better and you have a clear plan as to what to do._

 _Ah,_ the more impulsive side of him whispered, _but who knows if Yahaba-chan will fix the wall tomorrow?_

He watched as his hand moved as if by its own volition. The doorknob was cold beneath his grip, the chill stinging his fingers as Oikawa drew a deep breath, two. Then, before regret and apprehension could swamp his resolution further, he twisted the knob and pushed the door.

He had half-expected to see Iwaizumi standing right behind the door, blazing with rage and cursing Oikawa’s intrusion. Instead, the door swung open on what appeared to be an unlit, empty bedroom. No, not empty; a few large books were stacked on a low reading desk, and there were signs of the room being lived in - a haphazard chair, a wrinkled rug rucked up slightly. But the bed itself looked unused and there was… there was...

There was a form crouched in the corner, folded in on itself and Oikawa jerked, startled. “Iwa-chan?”

But then the form straightened and no, _no, this couldn’t be Iwa-chan-_

Horror clogged up his throat, and he could only stare, petrified at the beast looming before him.

For there was no other word that could describe Iwaizumi’s form but ‘beast’.

 _‘An abomination’_ , Iwaizumi had called himself. Larger than Oikawa, the being looked almost as if he were a clay project cobbled together by a lazy and easily distracted child, then left forgotten out in the sun. His spine was hunched over, folds of skin dripping over skin on overly long arms that bent too many times at odd angles. His flesh was a mottled grey, streaked green and black in places. His head was hairless, features blurry with no visible nose and a lip-less slash for a mouth, all of it sagging downwards as if melting off his skull. The only prominent feature left in the indistinct face were the teeth, too large and too sharp.

But the worst, the worst of it was the distended bulges all over Iwaizumi, pulsing as they crawled, slow and sanguine under the flesh like beetles under skin.

The only human feature left to him were his eyes, a dark shade of hazel-green as they locked with Oikawa’s, wide enough to see the white around them.

Then they closed, and Iwaizumi laughed. “I guess I asked for it. My fault really, for getting too involved.” The sound was familiar, completely at odds with the monstrosity before Oikawa, and utterly wretched. “I thought - I thought - well, doesn’t matter now. Congratulations, Oikawa Tooru, and sorry.”

Oikawa thought he should scream, should flee. But his limbs were paralyzed; it was all he could do to not vomit.

“Get out.”

He should respond, should say something, shout something, but what -

 _“GET OUT!_ ”

Something smashed behind him. Oikawa whipped his head around, but the same unseen force that had moved him in the library snatched him up again viciously, no gentleness in the gesture this time. The house rushed past his senses, as did blurs of dark colors and spots of light - he thought he caught glimpses of Matsukawa, Kindaichi, Yahaba - he blinked, eyes stinging from the gale that had whipped up around them -

The night chill immediately sank its eager teeth into exposed forearms not dressed for the outdoors, curling tight around a man already half-frozen, tears streaming down pale cheeks as he registered what he had seen, as he finally realized where he was, deposited on a pile of dead leaves in the middle of an unrecognizable part of forest.

There was no house in sight.

\---

Exactly how long Oikawa sat there, he wasn’t sure. How much longer he would have stayed there, unmoving, he didn’t know either.

But he stayed put, teeth chattering in the cold as he clutched onto the unreasonable hopes that the house would relent and reappear before him, familiar porch lit and waiting. What he would do if ( _when,_ he tried to tell himself) it did, he had no idea. Storm back into that hidden room? Demand some kind of explanation? Even now, he had no inkling of what he’d say to Iwaizumi if he came face-to-face with him or his orb again. The horrific images still hovered, were still printed stark against the dark space behind his eyelids when he squeezed his eyes shut. An abomination. A nightmare. A beast.

Did he love someone like that? _Could_ he love someone like that? Iwaizumi was much, much more than simply a voice now, but it wasn’t a blessing in any form.

 _I’m so sorry, Iwa-chan_. _I fucked up, didn’t I?_

Still, Oikawa didn’t make any effort to get to his feet, merely pulled his knees closer to himself to wait for something, _anything_.

The hours ticked by. The sun peeked around, then clambered over the horizon. And still Oikawa waited, unmoving as his mind wrestled within itself, frantically evaluating, reconsidering, recategorizing -

Time slowed, limbs stiffened, and Oikawa...Oikawa...

“I’ve found him!” Large yellow-tinged eyes registered first in Oikawa’s hazy vision, arranged in a grinning face that didn’t disappear in between sluggish blinks. There was a bird-like tilt to the small head as it squinted at him. “Damn, you ok? Never mind, dumb question. Oi, Sawamura, better hurry up - this guy looks half-dead!”

The touch of warm hands burned where they gripped frozen flesh. But the sensation was more than enough to rouse Oikawa.

“I… I love him,” he found himself blurting to the stranger, hot tears spilling down his cheeks as he gripped the front of a thick coat. “Oh god, I still love him.”


	8. Chapter 8

“They must still be in this area,” Sugawara mused, one hand splayed across a map Oikawa hadn’t seen in weeks. There were additional red marks circled over several spots, hastily scribbled words squeezed in around them. “It’s not likely that Iwaizumi still has enough control left to throw Oikawa too far away from the house. Plus, it doesn’t seem like they have any teleporters amongst them, so it’s probably their illusion user at work.”

“Yahaba-chan,” Oikawa croaked from where he was buried under travel blankets, hot-water bottles tucked in by his sides. Both men’s heads shot up at his words, swivelling to look at the researcher. “He’s the one with the illusion magic. And they do have a teleporter; he’s just not able to use his skill much anymore.”

A stilted silence, then Sawamura cleared his throat awkwardly. “Uh. Oikawa. You’re awake. How are you-”

“I already know about the magic and what’s happening to it.” Oikawa coughed into the crook of his elbow before raising narrowed eyes at the pair. “And apparently, so do you two.”

Sawamura’s gaze was reserved, but Sugawara beat him to the punch. “Amongst other things, yes. No use hiding it, Daichi,” he murmured to the other man, “He’s lived with the Seijou court for weeks; there’s no way they would have been able to mask their magic from him, especially with the disintegration underway.”

To Oikawa, he said, “Yes, we know about magic, and the corruption causing it to become a death sentence for those who possess it. It’s going to sound farfetched and I don’t blame you if you don’t trust us, but we’re here to help Seijou. That’s kind of why we’re out here in the first place - it’s never actually been about ‘research’. But we need to locate them before we can extend our aid in any way.”

Warmed sufficiently, Oikawa shrugged his way out of his blanket-cocoon as he scrutinized the pair carefully. Both Sugawara and Sawamura appeared sincere, and perhaps he was still teetering on the edge of too-exhausted to think properly, but no good reason for the pair to lie floated to the forefront of his mind.

Still…“How do I know you’re not lying?”

“You’ve got to take us on faith, I’m afraid.” Sawamura’s brow furrowed even as he admitted that, likely aware of how flimsy the answer sounded. “We’ve been humans for a couple of years now, so we can’t give you some kind of magical demonstration as proof. Not that it would necessarily prove our intentions anyway. But honestly, what do we have to gain by lying to you? Magic? It’s a death sentence now, and we’ve had quite enough trouble handling our own magical purge. I can tell you none of us are particularly keen on going through it again.”  

“‘Our own _magical_ purge’?”

Sugawara hummed. “What do you know of the other magical kingdoms, Oikawa?”

“Not much; only that they apparently exist.”

“Well, you’re looking at the ex-king of the magical territory known as Karasuno.” Sugawara nudged Sawamura in the ribs, fingers fluttering dramatically. “Proper fairy royalty and everything.”

“Koushi.” But Sawamura looked resigned rather than angry. Oikawa blinked at the stocky man.

“You? The king of Karasuno?”

Sawamura nodded. “That hard to believe, huh?”

“It’s just...I’d have thought it’d be Takeda-sensei, what with him being your team supervisor.”

“Nah. Takeda’s just always been in academia, even before the magic corruption. It was easier to have him ‘head’ our search since he’s more familiar with the protocols and requirements a university generally asks for to approve these kinds of research trips.”

“And you… you all?...”

“Yes, all of us in Takeda’s team used to be a part of Karasuno.” Sugawara flashed a quick grin. “Its high court, in fact. I daresay we’ve blended in quite well, haven’t we? But we can talk about all that later - let’s info-pool first. You mentioned someone called ‘Yahaba’ earlier?”

“He’s the one cloaking the place from sight,” Oikawa repeated. “But he’s already almost human. He's been losing his magic steadily; all of them, actually, over the past few weeks.”

“Losing their magic?...Well, at least that means that they're not going to be able to hide that place much longer, which is good.” Sawamura sighed explosively, rubbing hard at his temples. “But that’ll also mean we’re almost out of time as well. It’s risky, especially if we miss it showing up.”

“We won’t - Noya’s here now.” The person who had found him - Nishinoya, who had apparently been brought in to help with the search for Oikawa - had gone back out, insisting that it was best that he kept looking for any unusual signs that signaled what he had called ‘un-reality’.

“Nothing gets past these eyes,” he had grinned, tapping at the side of his head. “Used to be the best crow for miles.”

Given what his companions had revealed, Nishinoya had probably meant that quite literally.  

Oikawa squinted at Sawamura through new eyes - as the ex-King, that’d logically put him on the same rank as Iwaizumi. The man, hunched once more over the maps as he conferred with Sugawara, looked perfectly normal, a perfectly typical Japanese person. Maybe...

“Hey, Dai-chan.” Oikawa waited until the other man glanced back at him. “I don’t suppose you used to resemble…say, a half-melted human?”

Sawamura frowned. “A half-melted - no, I didn’t. What gave you that idea?”

“Iwa-cha- Iwaizumi’s the king of Seijou, and that’s what he currently looks like. I was wondering if that might be a part of the magic loss that you rulers have to endure or something. Though,” Oikawa faltered, “the two of you _are_ different people, perhaps it’s simply his normal appearance…”

“What exactly does he look like?” Sawamura asked slowly.

“His… his flesh looked as if it were melting off his bones.” Oikawa repressed an instinctive shudder, heart constricting at the memory of the pitiful look in Iwaizumi’s eyes. “His skin’s discolored too, and his joints are broken at all these awkward angles. And there were these… these _lumps_ , fist-sized, moving under his skin...”

Sawamura and Sugawara exchanged grim glances. “ _Fuck_.” Sugawara swore feelingly. “So _that’s_ what Seijou did.”

“I don’t blame them - it’s the most logical solution in a pinch, if you want to spare everyone else. I almost did that too, remember?”

“And I would have kicked your ass so hard if you had tried.”

“I know, I know. But,” Sawamura scrubbed at his face, deep in thought. “Well, never mind that now. Iwaizumi’s clearly gone about it differently somehow - found a way to delay the process, maybe? I mean, if he isn’t dead yet-”

“‘Dead’?” Oikawa interrupted, staring incredulously at the pair. “What the fuck are you guys talking about? Why would Iwaizumi be dead? Isn’t he turning human too, like the others?”

“Umm..” The two Karasuno men shared a loaded look again. “It’s a lot more complicated that that.”

“Don’t give me that shit,” Oikawa snarled, stumbling to his feet. He shrugged Sugawara’s hand off, stretching to his full height. “Exactly what is going on with Iwaizumi? Why is he struggling more than everyone else? Why does he look like, like, what he does? And what the fuck do you mean he ‘isn’t dead’ yet?”

Sugawara’s grip where he had seized Oikawa’s shoulder was firm. “Look,we’ll explain, okay? Calm down, don’t stress that leg out.” Pressing the researcher back down into sitting on the makeshift cot, the silver-haired man took a seat beside him; at a pointed look, Sawamura moved to Oikawa’s other side. “Right, so. Basics. You already know the whole bit about corrupted magic causing their wielders to die, right?”

At Oikawa’s nod, Sugawara continued, “And Seijou must have already told you that their magic has to leave them in order for them to survive. Now, something else you should know: magic can’t be _thrown_ away. Save for a single exception, magic only ever leaves a magical being when they die. There’s a whole spiel about how it returns to the land, but that’s irrelevant right now. All you need to know is a person can’t abandon or reduce their magic on their own - it’s bound to them. However, the keeper, or ‘king’ of a particular magical territory has the ability to _strip_ a person forcibly of their magic and inject it into someone else - another vessel, so to speak.”

“Loosely translated, it can be called ‘the king’s prerogative’,” Sawamura picked up the thread of explanation. “All kings are born into this right, which applies to all of the people under his or her reign. It’s restricted by territory though, so I wouldn’t have been able to strip the magic from a Seijou fae, and Iwaizumi wouldn’t be able to strip, say, Koushi’s magic, for instance.”

Oikawa waved the example by impatiently. “What has all this got to do with Iwa-chan dying?”

“Everything.” Sugawara’s voice was somber. “I don’t know how much the Seijou folk told you, but the core of magic went corrupt _years_ back. It’s a long story; even we ourselves aren’t sure exactly what happened. All we managed to confirm was that it was an inevitable death sentence on every magical creature: if you were magical, you were as good as dead. Several of the smaller territories were completely decimated, killed by the power within them before we even noticed. Naturally, once the word got out, the larger, older kingdoms started taking their own measures to handle the crisis.”

“From what you’ve told us, it seems that Iwaizumi’s used the king’s prerogative to drain all of Seijou’s magic from his people into himself.” Sawamura shook his head. “I can’t imagine how brutal it must have been, enacting the prerogative on a mass scale; Iwaizumi-san must be more powerful than we had assumed. The real issue here though is that he’s probably not transferring any of it out.”

Sugawara flinched, and Oikawa’s attention whipped towards the silver-haired man before bouncing immediately back to Sawamura. “Not transferring it out?”

“The King’s prerogative is… how do I put it, essentially a transfer skill. We can’t take someone’s magic and simply dispel it into thin air - the power must be transferred into another magical being. The prerogative was meant to be the ultimate reward-punish system - strip someone of their power, and grant it to someone else more deserving. Of course, a greedy King could technically abuse this right to grow their own magical power. But a single person, no matter how strong, is still a limited container - at most, even I would have been able to only hold maybe fifty people’s worth of magic before I started suffering from the effects of holding too much magic within myself.

“But clearly, if Iwaizumi is the kind of King I’m assuming he is, he’s not going to doom any of his people by transferring all the magic he’s collecting into them.” Despite his calm voice, Sawamura’s face had contorted into a wince mirroring Sugawara’s. “I can’t even begin to imagine the agony of holding all of Karasuno’s court’s abilities, much less an entire kingdom’s worth of magic. That’s got to be at least two thousand, easy. Forget the death-curse bit, simply holding that much magic within oneself for a prolonged period of time will kill even the strongest of us.”

 _But Iwa-chan’s not dead._ Oikawa’s fists tightened. “Then how the fuck is Iwa-chan doing it? Because he sure as hell was alive the last time I saw him.” Horrifying, yes, but also very much alive.

“I’m not entirely sure either, but I’m guessing he just barely has control over it.” The ex-King steepled his fingers. “The ‘lumps’ under his skin you mentioned? I’m willing to bet that’s the collected magic that Iwaizumi can’t fully absorb, given how stuffed with it he must be. That’d likely explain his appearance as well; the over-bloating of magic must be slowly destroying his form.”

“So, the cliff-notes version to summarize,” Sugawara said, “in order to spare his territory’s mass-slaughter via magic, Iwaizumi-san used the king’s prerogative to suck all of Seijou’s magic into himself -”

“- to save his people,” Oikawa breathed out, the overwhelming urge to cry brimming dangerously close to the surface all over again as the realization slammed into him. “That self-sacrificial _idiot-_ ”

“Again, bear in mind that it was probably the only way he could fathom saving the lives of his people.” Sawamura’s face was grave. “It’s a terrible choice, but don’t blame him for seeing this as the most reasonable solution. A single life over thousands.”

“What I’m curious about though,” Sugawara mused, brow creased in thought, “is how the Seijou high court managed to delay the king’s prerogative from being carried out on themselves. It’s supposed to be a command with near-instantaneous effect. And yet, if what Oikawa says is correct about them losing their magic over weeks, their magic is being leached into Iwaizumi at a ridiculously slow pace.”

“It’s not that hard to understand how they did it, once you grasp what Iwaizumi’s done. The Seijou court members are all extremely powerful. Keep in mind the prerogative here has been cast kingdom-wide - by the time the command might start to act upon the Seijou court, Iwaizumi's already holding, say, 95 to 96% of all of Seijou’s magic.” Sawamura’s shoulders rose and fell in a shrug. “He’s already overly bloated with magic he shouldn’t be holding - any extra magic he draws in is additional stuffing in an overextended space as is. So the power of his command is considerably weakened, especially in the face of people who are very strong and very, very reluctant to relinquish their magic.

“What the Seijou court’s gone and done as a whole is literally clamp down like a bunker. If they reduce their usage of magic to the bare minimum, they can resist the process, dragging it out. Of course, all of it will inevitably be transferred to Iwaizumi over time, but it’s a smart move. As corrupted as the magic will get, one of the base rules that governs its nature is that it cannot override itself. So, Iwaizumi-san can’t die until the prerogative is completed. With their experience, I don’t doubt the Seijou members are aware of that.” Sawamura got to his feet, brushing off his pants. “So they’ve effectively bought themselves, and now us, a grace period within which we can act. Koushi, can you go get Hinata and Kageyama? We need to be ready to move the minute Noya gives us the signal.”

“On it.” Sugawara left a somewhat awkward silence in his wake, but Oikawa ignored it, burying his face in his hands as he struggled to draw even breaths, feelings a maelstrom of hurt-anger-fear that twisted, heavy, within his chest. Iwa-chan, that _stupid, idiotic, fucking asshole Iwa-chan, why would you - but of course you would, you’re that kind of bastard, oh god, I love a dumbass who may be dying don’t you dare, Iwa-chan, don’t you DARE._

“Hey.” Sawamura’s tap on his back was tentative, uncertainty rewritten into the lines of his shoulders. “I, uh, am not as good at the comforting stuff as Koushi, but if you have any questions, just ask, okay?”

Oikawa managed a weak chuckle. “That’s a first, someone finally offering to give me answers.”

“You deserve them after all you’ve been through.” Sawamura offered him a small, but sincere smile. “Especially for a non-magical person; talk about being thrown in all this head-first. Though, given your area of research and your dedication, maybe you _are_ the best kind of person to have been thrusted into your current circumstances.”

A thought tickled the researcher’s brain. “Have you guys know all this while that Iwaizumi was the Hibagon?”

“Not quite - we didn’t know he was the Hibagon itself. But we strongly suspected that what you had identified as the Hibagon in your papers was a member of the Seijou territory, possibly of its high court. It was an assumption that could have been totally wrong, but it was the only concrete lead we could work with. When we first reached out to our closest magical neighbours to see how they were dealing with the magic crisis, we found most had been wiped out, except Seijou. They’d gone completely dark. Not physically of course; some of Karasuno went looking around in Miyagi for the few Seijou acquaintances they had spotted there. But not only were they not recognized, the Seijou fae didn’t seem to know what magic was at all.”

“Mattsun,” Oikawa mumbled. “He mind-wiped them all.”

“Ah, was that what happened?” Sawamura whistled softly. “Seijou sounds like a terrifying bunch. Either way, we were just about ready to concede that perhaps Seijou had been destroyed the way Kitagawa Daiichi was. Then you came along. Your account of the Hibagon was detailed, and unlike the others, you were willing to commit time and effort to helping in a physical search of the area. So we discussed amongst ourselves and agreed to a ‘research expedition’ with you.”

“So, Ushiwaka-chan-”

“Oh, he really is just an agronomist. When Takeda proposed it to the university he works at, Ushijima asked to come along, since he was keen in gathering samples from the area. It was hard to deny his request, especially since we didn’t really have a good reason to.” Sawamura chuckled. “He’s returned to the university already, but he did help us search for you when you first went missing for a good week or so.”

So many things clarified, and yet the weight of Oikawa’s feelings were no lighter in the pit of his stomach. “Dai-chan?”

“Hmm?”

“You said your magic purge succeeded, right?” At the other man’s nod, Oikawa asked, voice wavering, “You’re still alive, so… who sacrificed themselves?”

Sawamura’s eyes blazed with a quiet triumph. “No one.”

Any further explanation was cut off by Kageyama and Hinata elbowing their way into the tent, their argument brought up short once they registered the two people seated inside. Hinata moved first, saluting enthusiastically, if somewhat sloppily. “Ready to go whenever!”

“Asahi-senpai and Ennoshita-senpai are almost here.” Kageyama was a little quieter, but equally as fired up. “No word from Tsukishima or Yamaguchi yet, but I guess they’re on their way as well.”

“Excellent. You remember what to do?”

Hinata scrunched his nose. “I think?”

“Idiot,” Kageyama hissed, “‘You think’? What kind of idiot answer is that?”

“It’s not like I’ve done it more than once, Bakageyama!”

“Yeah, well, you better not screw up.”

“I won’t - watch me!”

Oikawa’s eyebrows rose involuntarily as he watched the heated argument unfold. “Those two are also members of your court?”

“In a way.” Despite the weariness on Sawamura’s face that spoke of having seen this exchange way too often, there was a smugness underlying the exasperated tone. “You see, Hinata is Karasuno’s container.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quite a heavy exposition chapter, this - do let me know if something doesn't make sense/isn't clear!


	9. Chapter 9

Things didn’t start happening immediately after the brief discussion between Oikawa, Sugawara and Sawamura. For starters, there was still the issue of pinpointing the actual location of Seijou’s hideout.

“I know you’re anxious to do something, but there’s no use for every single one of us to go looking,” Ennoshita, one of the new arrivals at the campsite said to Oikawa while wrapping the latter’s knee securely with a compression bandage. “We’re all pretty much human now, and some of us aren’t used to having to look for odd details with limited vision. Plus, we’ll distract the actual searchers, maybe even get in their way. Given how things are, it’s a wiser plan to conserve our energy for when Seijou is found.”

“We’ve got our best on it anyway,” Tanaka grinned, flexing an arm. “Noya, Tsukishima _and_ Sugawara-senpai; you can’t put together a more reliable team than that. Damn, gonna hoard all my strength for this - never thought we would ever have to do _this_ again.”

“I’m a little worried, to be honest.” Ennoshita clipped off the end of the bandage neatly, giving Oikawa’s leg a warning squeeze when it started bouncing restlessly. “Stop that. Anyway, we were still mostly magical the last time we were in this situation. I can’t imagine how we’re supposed to be of much help now with merely human strength.”

“No use sweating the little things, Chikara. It’ll work or it won’t, but we’ve gotta try.” Tanaka thumped Oikawa’s shoulder companionably. “Right?”

The Oikawa of a few weeks ago wouldn’t have hesitated to voice his agreement alongside the loud Karasuno member, throwing in a dazzling grin and a quip about success being inevitable with his presence. But the emotional roller-coaster the researcher had been strapped to had stripped him of his faux showmanship, and he found himself nodding quietly, even as he latched onto Tanaka’s enthusiastic confidence for strength.

Of Hinata, Kageyama and Sawamura, there was no sign, but that seemed only to be expected.

“They’re prepping,” Ennoshita had told Oikawa once, when he had asked. “In case Hinata gets nervous again. Honestly, the number of toilet breaks he had to take the last time...you’d think a golem wouldn’t have much of a bladder to start with.”

It still took some effort for the cryptozoologist to wrap his head around the idea of who, or perhaps what Hinata was -  a being literally created to be the closed vessel for all the magic Karasuno could pour into him, granted just enough life to qualify him as ‘alive’ for the magical transfer.

Then again, Oikawa’s imagination had been stretched to the limits over the past month; what was a little more impossibility at this point?

Days passed, coalescing slowly into a week. Still Karasuno waited, ever-watchful, ears out for the cry of discovery.

When a sharp caw finally splintered across an early morning, they were already up and ready to go.

\---

The house was exactly as Oikawa remembered it: large and sturdy. The people stumbling out of it, armed with miscellaneous items, were not. Kindaichi appeared first, followed by Watari who looked completely, devastatingly human, even as he gripped a curtain rod the way one might a spear. Behind them, Matsukawa brandished what looked to be a coat-rack in one hand, supporting a limping Hanamaki with the other. The healer himself was gripping the crutches Oikawa had used - there were no signs of his wings at all.

The small defensive front they put up in the face of Nishinoya’s excitement was laudable in its unity, but also highlighted just how small a group they were. Iwaizumi’s last barrier between death and himself was dwindling; judging from their faces, Seijou’s court knew it full well. Still, it was clear from their stance that they would protect their own at all costs right up to the end.

The hostile expressions quickly transformed into surprise when Oikawa ran up with the other Karasuno people. “Oikawa-san?” Kindaichi spoke up first, looking flummoxed, grip relaxing around the cleaver in his hand. “What are you still doing here?”

“Iwa-chan didn’t throw me far enough.” Oikawa didn’t wait for the quip to sink in, immediately wending his way to where Matsukawa and Hanamaki were standing. “This is Karasuno’s ex-court,” he told them. “They were magical like you. They want to help.”

Matsukawa held Oikawa’s gaze before his shoulders slumped and he gestured at the doorway. “You might as well try, I suppose. There’s nothing more we can do at this point. It’s just Kyoutani left now, and he’s not going to last much longer.”

Behind them, Karasuno were already rushing into the house. Oikawa squeezed Matsukawa’s shoulder in thanks before he ran in after them.

In the living room was Kyoutani on his hands and knees, sweat beading on his forehead, face locked in a silent growl, even as his fangs sluggishly retracted into his mouth.  Yahaba knelt just across him, the ex-water spirit completely solid even as his hands fluttered around the other man’s form, never quite landing. He spared only a cursory glance at the newcomers. “Go straight up. Don’t bother us.”

Like the glamour cloaking the place, the illusion which had tucked Iwaizumi’s section of the house away had disappeared with the loss of Yahaba’s power, making it easy for Karasuno to locate where Iwaizumi was. The size of the room and its doorway allowed only a handful of them to enter the small space, but no one protested when Oikawa elbowed his way through to the front.

“Iwa-chan, Iwa-chan-”

Sawamura was speaking; Oikawa paid no heed to him, his attention completely given to the collapsed figure on the floor as he dropped to his knees beside it. Iwaizumi didn’t look any different from when Oikawa last saw him; if anything, he looked worse, only tenuously human-shaped as he pulsed, bulging with the magic eating away at him from within.

But Oikawa didn’t allow himself time to hesitate or think, squeezing his eyes shut as he reached out and pulled the shapeless form into a fierce hug. “Iwa-chan, we’re here to save you.”

 _Oikawa?_ A tendril of a thought brushed against his mind in Iwaizumi’s painfully familiar voice, and the researcher tightened his arms, ignoring the pressure of the bulges struggling to move against his grip. Pressed up against him like this, Iwaizumi was too soft, his body almost dough-like in its malleability. But he was warm, and beneath his skin, a heartbeat still pulsed, however faintly. Oikawa struggled to not sob into the crook of what seemed to be Iwaizumi’s shoulder.

“Oikawa.” A hand shaking his own shoulder hard - Sawamura. “We have to move him _now_.”

Right. Hinata. The plan. The researcher released Iwaizumi’s form enough for Asahi and Sawamura to reach in and haul the ex-Seijou king up, heart breaking at the wave of confused pain that Iwaizumi projected at the unexpected displacement. Opening his eyes, Oikawa stood, knee strong enough now that he rose with barely a wobble. He would owe Ennoshita a debt of gratitude for his efficient care later, but thanks was the furthest thing from Oikawa’s mind as he moved to catch up with where Karasuno was transporting Iwaizumi carefully, Tsukishima and Tanaka flanking the pair carrying him. Sawamura was saying something to Iwaizumi, probably explaining what was happening. The others talked around them, conferring as to where to set up, their voices overlapping in a buzz of sound.

“The library,” Oikawa called out as loudly as he could, one hand outstretched to maintain some contact with Iwaizumi, if only through the briefest of touches. “Take him to the library; that should be a big enough space. It’s the large set of doors over there.”

Karasuno moved like a well-oiled unit, and Oikawa moved with them, shuffling down the corridor to the familiar entryway, no longer locked against intrusion. From the landing, he could just about spot Kyoutani, still in the same position, hands locked in fists against the carpet. A swell of gratefulness rose up in the researcher at the sight. Sullen, stubborn Mad-Dog-chan, clutching unrelentingly to the last vestiges of his magic, holding fast to that final tether for as long as he could.

Sugawara and the others were already waiting in the middle of the library, the small group arranged in a half-formed ring. The larger pieces of furniture had been haphazardly shoved out of the way and books were scattered all across the floor, their pages crumpled or folded from how they had landed on the carpet. Iwaizumi would be appalled at the disrespect to his collection, Oikawa thought, and oh, wouldn’t it be glorious to see him lose his temper in person?

At a nod from Sugawara, Asahi and Sawamura wordlessly transferred Iwaizumi onto Oikawa, who braced himself to receive the half-conscious man. Almost immediately, another hand grabbed Iwaizumi’s shoulder, supporting some of his weight - Kageyama. Together, they moved Iwaizumi to the center of the circle where Hinata stood, bright hair aflame in the light of the late morning sun. Gone was the excitable boy with inexhaustible reserves of energy; in his place was something that emanated a presence so strong, even Oikawa felt it bearing down on him, his legs aching with the need to drop to his knees before small feet.

It was before this person that Kageyama and Oikawa laid Iwaizumi down, the former immediately rising to clasp Hinata’s waist. Oikawa merely tightened his hold on Seijou’s king.

Behind them, Karasuno had completed the ring, their hands interlocked, backs straight. “Hinata.” Sugawara’s voice belled out, gentle and clear. “Are you ready?”

A scream, loud and frenzied, seeped in from under the door - Kyoutani’s. Hinata looked at Oikawa, and his eyes were stars, glowing embers embedded in a human skull. His words were sung in a choir of laments and dirges, even as he said, dispassionate, “You’d better be prepared, Oikawa-san.”

Then Sawamura spoke words Oikawa couldn’t understand into the stillness and Hinata’s head snapped backwards and -

If one were to ask Oikawa to describe what had happened on that morning, he would smile and say something along the lines of “ah, it’s hard to say!”, or perhaps even, “I can’t remember - it all happened so fast!” Stripped of his airy affectations, he would still have been telling the truth. For magic, in its purest form, was never meant for mere humans to comprehend, much less see, and Oikawa had had to shield his eyes from the phenomenon before him in fear of being blinded by the sight.

If you were a close enough friend to to press him on the matter, he might hum a little before remarking that behind the darkness of his eyelids, he might have seen Hinata explode outward, flesh and clothing converging into a burst of light so brilliant and wondrous that all the hairs on his body had stood on end. In that moment, Oikawa had known that if he wanted to, he would be able to do anything - fly, teleport, bring the dead back to life, heal Iwaizumi, any conceivable thing his mind could possibly imagine. Such was the potential of the raw magic that saturated the air, a seductive promise of immense power.

He also knew with dreadful certainty that that same power would destroy him as easily as one might crumple a sheet of tissue paper. And so Oikawa shoved the tempting ideas away, curling tight around Iwaizumi instead within the maelstrom of chaos.

 _\- hold it back!_ _Don’t let the magic leak out!_

Past the utter silence that had stoppered his hearing, Oikawa thought he felt Tanaka roar, a primal sound that grazed his side like a physical punch. In his arms, Iwaizumi was convulsing, limbs writhing as the lumps of magic skittered like panicked rats under his skin. The body within his arms seemed to sink in on itself and Oikawa panicked, lowered his face-

_NOT YET!_

Fuck, fuck, fuck - Oikawa wrenched his head back up, felt something slice, knife-like, across his cheek. Against the blinding incandescence, he could just about make out the silhouette of Kageyama, stark against the blaze he held against his body.

Then the bulges started to push their way past the slits that were Iwaizumi’s lips; colorful spheres of various sizes, scintillating as they floated towards the supernova that was Hinata. With each sphere’s departure, Iwaizumi seemed to diminish a little further, skin sagging loosely like a deflated rubber doll. Once again, Oikawa struggled against the urge to throw up, shifting his focus onto the magic which disintegrated almost immediately upon contact with the whirlwind that churned the air around them. Which of them had been Matsukawa’s? Had the bright green one been Kindaichi’s, or maybe Watari’s…?

The magic that had once belonged to the whole kingdom of Seijou was leaving Iwaizumi faster now, flurries of them practically forcing their way out of a mouth that was ripping ever wider and wider, and oh god, Oikawa didn’t know if he was capable of seeing this through, he was just a normal human man, what the fuck would _he_ be able to do -

_(“You’re going to have to anchor him.”_

_“‘Anchor’ him?” Oikawa stared at Sawamura uncomprehendingly. The other man nodded._

_“Yeah. Look, Iwaizumi-san is strong, but I suspect there isn’t much left to him - it’s pretty much force of will that’s damming up the magic within him at this point. Once all of it is moved into Hinata, there’s not going to be enough life remaining within him to sustain him as a human being.”_

_“So you’re basically saying that Iwa-chan is going to die, whether the magic leaves him or not.”_

_Sawamura caught Oikawa by the arms, forcing him to sit back down. “Hey hey, calm down. We said we were going to try to save him, didn’t we? Hear me out. What Iwaizumi will need is an ‘anchor’, essentially someone who is willing to share half their life with him.”_

_“‘Life’?”_

_“It’s similar to...what do humans call it, your ‘soul’? No, that’s still really abstract. Think of it as...as the number of years you are given to live on this land. As Iwaizumi’s anchor, you will be sharing your life with him in a very literal sense - essentially, both of you would be two halves of a whole existence.”_

_“That…” Sounded improbable. Unfeasible and illogical. “Would this work if he’s no longer magical?”_

_“It will. But…” Sawamura hesitated. “There are some drawbacks. The two of you will always have to be within a certain range of each other. Split too far for too long a period of time, and uh, we aren’t terribly sure if one or both of you will die, but Not-Good Things will happen. The range isn’t too bad though - Hinata and Kageyama tested it once; seems like it goes up to about twenty kilometers.”_

_Oikawa quirked an eyebrow. “Chibi-chan and Tobio-chan, huh?”_

_“Yeah. Slightly different circumstances from yours, but Hinata’s humanity stems from Kageyama’s. It’s how he qualifies as being alive enough to be able to carry all that magic. He’ll probably die young - both of them will, since they’re splitting that single lifespan between the two of them. So will you and Iwaizumi, I suppose, but that’s hard to predict, given how different the circumstances are. You’ll definitely go at the same time though; another one of the not-quite-perks of tethering a person to your lifeforce - a half can’t exist on its own.”_

_“...And Iwa-chan said the red string of fate didn’t exist. I swear, all this sounds like a more drastic variation of that concept.”_

_“Huh?”_

_“Never mind. It’s just…it’s quite a bit to take in at one go.”_

_“You’ve got time; the scouters haven’t reported anything yet.” Sawamura’s face was understanding. “You don’t have to agree to it, of course. It’s an option, but it’s also a huge sacrifice, with no take backs. So think it over properly before you decide: are you willing to anchor Iwaizumi-san?”)_

The last globe that pushed its way out of Iwaizumi was larger than the rest, luminous and rippling as it detached itself almost reluctantly from the keeper of Seijou - Iwaizumi’s own magic, surely, in all its glory.

If Karasuno yelled any instructions to Oikawa, he was deaf to them, the only sound in his ears the howl of the whirlwind trying to batter its way out of Karasuno’s ring. He no longer needed to be prompted though; the second Iwaizumi sagged, a shell finally emptied out, he slammed his mouth down hard against the cold slash that was Iwaizumi’s own. He ignored the squeamishness that rose, bile-like, up his throat, buried his fear in the deepest part of himself even as he used his tongue to part the slits enough for Oikawa to fuse his lips to Iwaizumi’s and breathe out as hard as he could.

Take my lifeforce, Iwa-chan, he chanted in his mind, attempting to project it as forcefully as he could. Take it take it take it -

(" _That’s all I have to do? Really?”_

_“Yep, pretty much.”_

_“...The key to rescuing Iwa-chan is a kiss.” Oikawa levelled a flat look on Sawamura, who, admittedly, looked completely serious as he nodded._

_“The kiss merely initiates the offer of a transfer. You’re human; it’s not like you’re suddenly going to be able to pull off something of this magnitude. It’s up to him to reach out and latch on if he’s willing to accept your offer.”_

_“So, Iwa-chan could reject it if he wanted to? If he doesn’t want to be anchored to me?”_

_“Well, yes, especially if it isn’t mutual. But, honestly? If what you’ve told me of Iwaizumi is right, I don’t think he’ll reject you.”)_

Don’t you dare reject me, Iwa-chan.

Don’t you dare.

I will find you and I’ll kill you, I swear.

I love you, Iwa-chan.

I love you. Even if you’re hideous. Even if you’re rude and grumpy and an old man it’s ok Iwa-chan. Because I love you.

I love you I love you I love-

There. A stirring, barely more than a whisper, cobweb-soft. _Oikawa? What?_

Iwa-chan. There you are.

Fondness and affection and the ache of the good kind of hurt that came from feeling too much relief - he felt Iwaizumi feel them all, drenched in their entirety. And underneath them all -

Love.

_Are you sure -_

Oikawa didn’t give the small presence time to finish his thought - he inhaled, breathed out into Iwaizumi’s form again, willed his life into Iwaizumi as strongly as a mortal man could.

He felt the moment Iwaizumi grasped it, pulled a portion of it into himself. For a moment, its loss was stark, a gaping emptiness so agonizing in its absence that Oikawa felt rivulets of sorrow roll down his cheeks unchecked.

But then something else curled into its space, and it was warm and sturdy and so Iwa-chan in its fierce concern that Oikawa found himself laughing through his tears.

Something tugged Oikawa away from Iwaizumi gently but firmly, and he tumbled backwards, arms clutching at air. He scrambled to his feet, but any protests he had died away at the phosphorescent glow that suffused Iwaizumi, filling the spaces beneath his skin that the magic had stripped away.

“That’s half your life settling in right there.” A large arm slung itself over Oikawa’s shoulders - Sawamura, exhausted but satisfied. “It’s going to get blinding - look away for a bit.”

Oikawa obeyed, felt the heat lap at his skin even as he turned his face away from the sight. Behind him, the various Karasuno people were slowly getting up from where they had ostensibly been forced to their knees, all wearing matching grins of weary triumph. Somewhere in his periphery, Hinata’s voice rose in a plaintive wail. “Oh my god, did I get _shorter?_ ”

Then Sawamura was tapping him on the shoulder again. “Okay, you can look now.”

And Oikawa turned around, fully intent on running straight-tilt at Iwaizumi to check if he was okay-

He stopped, frozen mid-step, as he gaped at the human before him. Because Oikawa knew Iwaizumi, had known him for weeks now, was intimately acquainted with his occasional grouchiness, his pain, his silences. Oikawa knew the sound of Iwaizumi’s reluctant chuckles, his uproarious laughter, the occasional sarcasm that would color his words.

But this person, all broad shoulders and muscular arms, wide back and finely-carved torso, Oikawa didn’t recognize at all. The figure that had kissed Oikawa in the library was but a poor mirage of the man standing before him, and suddenly, he wasn’t so sure if he had really known Iwaizumi as well as he thought he did. Suddenly shy, he stayed rooted where he was, eyes drinking in the sight of this stranger.

For his part, Iwaizumi appeared to be staring at himself as well, disbelieving gaze travelling from his hands up to his arms, then down to his thighs, knees, toes. He was entirely naked, but modesty was clearly the least of his concerns as his fingers trembled, opening and closing in loose fists.

Then his gaze snapped upwards and met Oikawa’s, eyes still that unfathomable black-green shade Oikawa had glimpsed on that last unspeakable day. One, two heartbeats, and the glimmer collecting at the edges of the short eyelashes spilled over, tears streaking down the cheekbones of an unfamiliar face. Teeth bit down on a thin lower lip, and the stern line crumpled as Iwaizumi sank to his knees, shaking with hitched sobs as he buried his face in his hands.

Warm wetness traced its way down Oikawa’s own cheeks; he scrubbed at the tears carelessly, not daring to blink lest everything turned out to be an elaborate dream. Go to Iwaizumi, his mind urged. He needs someone, anyone. _You._ Yet his legs refused to unstick themselves from the ground, couldn’t make themselves move and wasn’t this hilarious - after all his big talk about being there for Iwaizumi -

His thoughts were derailed by the ruckus of the Seijou people tumbling in through the door, screaming and yelling and falling over each other in their haste to get to the figure hunched over on the carpeted floor. Kyoutani reached Iwaizumi first, pulling him into a bone-crushing hug as the others threw themselves onto the pair almost immediately after, their laughter and cries ringing out joyfully through the air. From where he was, Oikawa could just about make out Kunimi, always ambivalent Kunimi crying as he squeezed under Watari’s arm to shovel himself even deeper into the ball of limbs. A crutch lay discarded to the side, having no place in this joyful reunion of comrades as its owner yelled threats about how he was going to ‘kill Iwaizumi for giving him heart attacks like this, you fucker’.

The court of Seijou had struggled and strained, had resisted and suffered to buy Iwaizumi time they knew not what to do with.

But it had been just enough time to allow Oikawa to stumble into their little circle, just enough time for the cryptozoologist to bring with him the miracle Seijou had barely dared believe was possible.

Still sniffling, Oikawa hung back a little more, reluctant to disrupt the happiness radiating off the tableau before him. Instead, he turned to survey Karasuno, who were talking quietly amongst each other, pride still evident in their postures. Hinata was human-esque once more, appearance no different than it had been as he complained loudly about his height to the laughing duo of Nishinoya and Tanaka. Behind him was Kageyama, arms still looped around the smaller man’s waist as he leant his head atop Hinata’s, eyes closed as if dozing. For all his animated gesturing, Hinata didn’t dislodge Kageyama - every now and then, orange eyes would flicker over to the other man as if to ensure that he was still resting securely, hands adjusting the taller man’s position whenever he seemed as if he were on the verge of slipping off Hinata’s back.

Oikawa watched them a little longer, envious longing twining around his thoughts. It was a romantic concept: each person carrying half of a shared life, only truly complete when together. The proximity limitations was a drawback, but it seemed a small enough price to pay to ensure the life of your beloved was secure.

But that was assuming that the love was mutual between the two people in that contract. In hindsight, did Iwaizumi even like him that way? If Oikawa were to review the few semi-romantic encounters they’d had (and, how depressing, he seemed to be able to count them on one hand), it had always been Oikawa declaring his love for Iwaizumi, and not vice versa. The researcher knew his flaws well, was aware that he could be so very selfish. He had been the one who forced Iwaizumi’s hand each time; had he ended up forcing his life on Iwaizumi as well?

“Not going to join them?” Ennoshita’s mild question interrupted Oikawa’s troubled thoughts as the other man nodded towards the Seijou pile. Oikawa shook his head, a practised smile already slipping into place.

“It’s fine; I don’t particularly want an elbow or arm jabbed into my eye.” The researcher hesitated, then forged on. “Besides, they deserve their moment, after all that they’ve been through.”

Ennoshita chuckled. “Well, looks like you’re going to be a part of that ‘moment’ pretty soon.”

“Oi, Oikawa!” Hanamaki yelled from somewhere within the Seijou pile. “Oikawa! Where are you? Get in here!”

Someone caught Oikawa’s hand - Kindaichi, who had somehow disentangled himself from the others. “C’mon, Oikawa-san!” he urged, tugging the brunet towards the pile of people. The others shifted to make room for him, each face wreathed in large smiles unhaunted by shadows nor foreboding. Questions bombarded Oikawa from all sides, none of which Seijou seemed to expect an answer for, given how they kept taking turns to embrace him, even Kyoutani (rather stiltedly).

And in the middle of the pile was Iwaizumi, cheeks damp, laughing and smiling so hard, it made Oikawa’s heart hurt to look at it. Someone had given him their shirt, another person their pants; both pieces of clothing were so rumpled, it almost looked as if Iwaizumi had simply rolled out of bed, rather than gone through the ordeal he had.

Then Iwaizumi caught his gaze with his own, holding it as he murmured something to Matsukawa at his side. A slow grin spread across the latter’s face and he nodded, straightening to clap his hands.

“Alright, guys, we can continue this party much later, preferably with booze, _sanma_ and some comfortable cushions because we’re way too old for this shit. Let’s give Iwaizumi some space with his new husband.”

“ _Matsukawa_.”

“Hey, I call it as I see it.”

Laughing, the others started to drift off to where the Karasuno people were. Someone clapped Oikawa briefly on the shoulder. “Thank you.” Matsukawa said simply before he too moved away, leaving Oikawa alone with Iwaizumi once more.

He should say something, Oikawa knew, even as as his mind hungrily imprinted its fill of Iwaizumi’s visage into his long-term memory. But what did one say in situations like these? _Hey, so about the ‘love’ thing, I still love you? But I don’t know if you love me, and I’d be cool if you want to stay separately? Only I'd be lying because I really, actually love you and it would suck if it weren’t mutual?_

“I should have known you’d be short, Iwa-chan.”

“Shut up, dumbass.” Iwaizumi’s reply was immediate. “After all that, the first thing you point out is my _height_?”

“Well, I now have confirmation that your sterling old-man personality is still intact as well.” Oikawa winked. “Gotta check the important stuff first.”

“Should have figured you’d still be this disgusting.” Despite the words, a small, lopsided grin was tugging irrepressibly at Iwaizumi’s lips. “Oh, your cheek.”

“Huh?”

Iwaizumi’s fingers where they ghosted above the shallow cut on Oikawa’s cheek were electric, and Oikawa jerked under the tentative touch. “Does it hurt?”

“I honestly forgot it was even there.”

Iwaizumi was silent, apparently content with stroking Oikawa’s cheek until the cryptozoologist combusted from overabundant emotions. Then, “Hey, Idiotkawa.”

“Wow, I rescue you from death, and I still get that crappy nickname?”

“Do you regret, I mean, do you… are you sure?” The question was quiet, charged with an uncertainty that Iwaizumi should never, ever have in his voice. Carefully, Oikawa reached out to encircle Iwaizumi’s wrists with his hands, swinging them from side to side.

“Dai-chan says there are no take-backs. So yes, I’m sure.” Oikawa dropped his eyes, studying the tips of his shoes. “I wasn’t lying, you know. All those times.”

“I know.” Iwaizumi’s sigh ruffled Oikawa’s hair. “I still don’t get it though. Why did you - why would you love a monster?”

“Iwa-chan.” Oikawa squeezed Iwaizumi’s hands in reproach. “You were never a monster. Never ever. Even when you were the Hibagon, you were… you. I dare anyone who’s known you to consider thinking of you as anything but a stupidly brave person who did a stupid big self-sacrificial move to save your people. Because trust me, I’ve done the research, and as a fully recognized academic, I can scientifically conclude that you are the bravest stupid person I’ve ever met.”

“You dumbass, was that supposed to be a compliment?” But affection softened the rough edges of Iwaizumi’s retort, and he squeezed back.

“Besides, I should be the one asking that question: I kind of forced my decision on you without even checking to see if you liked me enough to mind being binded to me.” Oikawa took a deep breath, exhaled as he studied his shoes. “I’m not going to apologize for saving you, Iwa-chan. I’m not sorry at all, you can’t make me regret that ever. But… well, you know how I feel about you, and if you don’t feel the same way, I-” _would break._ “- would totally understand. We could work something out; a platonic friendship should be - ”

“Oikawa.” A large hand disentangled itself from Oikawa’s and rose to caress his face, tilting it up to meet Iwaizumi’s clear gaze. “I’d already fallen in love with you before you even got to spouting all that crap about red strings.”

“...Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” Iwaizumi’s eyes crinkled around the edges. “I’m absolutely sure.”

A giggle rose up in Oikawa’s throat before he could stop it, and Iwaizumi arched an eyebrow. “Laughing at my confession now?”

“No, no, I would never, Iwa-chan. It’s just...all this feels a little weird. I _know_ you and yet, it feels like I’m meeting you for the first time. Come to think of it, I don’t think we’ve ever really introduced ourselves to each other at all.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mm hmm. I found out about you through Mattsun and the others, and I’m pretty sure I was unconscious when you first met me.”

“Go on then.”

“Eh? ‘Go on’ what?”

Iwaizumi’s smile was breathtaking.“Go on, introduce yourself.”

“...hi, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa’s heart was pounding fit to burst. “I’m Oikawa Tooru, your literal other half.”

Iwaizumi leant in close, breath caressing Oikawa’s ear. “Hi, Oikawa. I’m Iwaizumi Hajime, your literal other half.”

Then he was kissing Oikawa, and it was clumsy and desperate and _perfect_.


	10. Epilogue

A light knock came at his door. Oikawa grunted in reply, eyes glued on the video playing on his laptop as his hand furiously scribbled out notes on a paper pad in front of him.

“Nice to see that the romance is already dead.” A pair of strong arms enveloped him from the back - Iwaizumi’s. Humming, Oikawa leant backwards, tilting his head backwards to stick his tongue out at at his husband, even as he curled his free hand around one of Iwaizumi’s wrists. Iwaizumi, they had both discovered, had developed a liking for physical touch since becoming human, something Oikawa was all too pleased to accommodate.

It had been surprisingly easy for them to get Iwaizumi into a position at Miyagi University’s infirmary, a feat Oikawa still suspected had Takeda Ittetsu’s fingerprints all over it. Securing a researcher’s position at the same institution had been a little trickier, but Oikawa had managed to pull it off, backed up by the credentials of the ground-breaking research paper he had submitted on the legendary Hibagon.

Said (former) legendary creature had taken to the idea of humanity and its limitations extremely well, all things given. While Oikawa occasionally still fretted about their purportedly shortened lifespan, Iwaizumi had pointed out very reasonably that Sawamura’s benchmark was that of his kind - magical beings could easily live until they were two hundred years old, with the oldest occasionally breaching the three-hundred-year mark.

“We’d probably be dead by typical human lifespan standards before we hit his estimated life limit,” Seijou’s ex-king had said pragmatically, chewing on another handful of popcorn as he kept his eyes on the movie playing on the television. “Besides, shouldn’t you be used to it? Humans are the most fragile of beings; it seems you lot never know when you will pass away.”

“That’s...true, I guess.” Oikawa fidgeted a little on the couch. “But -”

“Shhh, you’re missing the best parts of the rampage.”

“Addendum to research paper: the Hibagon has an unsettlingly intense fascination with Godzilla. There’s a joke in there somewhere, I swear.” But Oikawa had rested his head on Iwaizumi’s shoulder obligingly, receiving a absent-minded kiss to the forehead as a reward.

Some things were slightly harder to deal with. Iwaizumi’s insomnia, for one. Already unused to needing sleep in the first place, the newly-turned man’s former ordeal crippled his rest with hallucinatory pain whenever exhaustion finally managed to drag him into unconsciousness. Oikawa hadn’t noticed initially, so quiet was Iwaizumi’s suffering. It wasn’t until the researcher had stayed up late to do some work one night that he found out, entering the bedroom only to behold the rictus of Iwaizumi’s silent scream, his back arched too tight, too high with agony as fingers clawed against his skin, pulling the blunt fingertips against phantom cysts.

“I’m used to it.” Iwaizumi had confessed haltingly to a sobbing Oikawa, too limp within the brunet’s crushing hug. “It’s nothing I haven’t experienced before.”

“ _Every time_ you sleep? Oh god, Hajime  _-”_

“It’s not so bad,” Iwaizumi repeated, resting a sweaty forehead against Oikawa’s shoulder.

But it was that bad, and it would be weeks of makeshift counselling with Matsukawa and carefully regulated medication before Iwaizumi was finally able to sleep through a whole night.

Then there was the proximity stipulation of their bond. That had gone forgotten until Oikawa had agreed to travel to Tokyo for a conference. He had made it as far as Shiroishizao before he began to feel (literally) feverishly anxious. Stumbling out of the train in a daze, he had collapsed into one of the waiting chairs at the station, floating in and out of consciousness until a wild-eyed Iwaizumi had appeared half an hour later, immediately sweeping Oikawa into his arms as they both took their first proper breath in hours.

“Yeah, that sounds similar to Kageyama and Hinata’s case,” had been Sugawara’s comment when they had updated him as to what had happened over the phone. They were still in semi-regular contact with Karasuno, ostensibly to keep them updated on the characteristics of their bond, but mostly to maintain the friendly connection between the two formerly-magical kingdoms. “The good news is that the effects aren’t instantaneous, so there’s usually a frame of time within which you can remedy the distance.”

Hence the importance of Oikawa and Iwaizumi cinching jobs within easy reach of each other. These days, Iwaizumi also helped with coaching the university’s volleyball team, after much encouragement from Oikawa and the rest of Seijou. It suited him - Oikawa’s current phone wallpaper was a snap of Iwaizumi watching the players train on the court, arms folded, a smile curling small on his lips. He really should change that to a selfie of the two of them eventually, Oikawa mused, even as he smiled winningly at Iwaizumi.

“Done with practice already?”

Even upside down, the extent of Iwaizumi’s eyebrow raise was impressive. “Practice has been done for an hour now. And that includes the extra training time the stubborn ones keep insisting on having. I’ve also already finished updating the inventory for the infirmary before coming up here, only to find you in the exact same position I left you in this morning.”

“Hey, I moved,” Oikawa protested, even as he straightened up, sighing at the cracking sounds his shoulders made in protest at the movement. “I ate lunch with you, remember?”

“Uh huh. C’mon, we should start heading over to Matsukawa’s and Hanamaki’s place now if we don’t want to be late. Apparently, dinner isn’t going to wait for stragglers.” Iwaizumi squinted at the laptop screen. “What are you so caught up in anyway? I thought the paper about the Hibagon’s already finished.”

“It’s not been published yet, so technically, it’s not.” Oikawa waggled his own eyebrows at Iwaizumi. “Besides, I’ll never be bored of the Hibagon. Ever.”

Iwaizumi groaned, but lowered his head to rest against Oikawa’s forehead. “Aren’t you sick of making that joke yet?”

“Nope.” Iwaizumi was warm, and Oikawa set down his pen to move his hands to the sides of Iwaizumi’s face, playfully moving it so he could try and brush his lips against Iwaizumi’s. It was trickier than he thought, with Oikawa’s nose bumping into Iwaizumi’s chin as he attempted to maneuver both his and Iwaizumi’s faces into a workable kiss angle.

Iwaizumi’s snort tickled his neck. “If you want to kiss me, do it properly, idiot.”

“It looked romantic in ‘Spiderman’.” Pouting, Oikawa released Iwaizumi’s head and straightened, rubbing at the crick in his neck. “Ugh, maybe romance really is dead.”

“Oh, for god’s - c’mere.” Iwaizumi’s hands were slightly rough, large enough to cradle most of  Oikawa’s head as the other man coaxed it backwards once more, skillfully fitting his mouth to Oikawa’s. By the time both men broke apart for air, Oikawa had intertwined his fingers around Iwaizumi’s neck, keeping him close.

“Romantic enough for you?”

“It was very…how should I put it, ‘magical’.”

Iwaizumi’s groan was heartfelt. “Seriously, Tooru?”

“Sorry.” Oikawa’s grin was anything but apologetic when he released Iwaizumi, watching as the other man grabbed the spare stool in the corner of the tiny office and pulled it up beside the cryptozoologist’s own chair. “But that really was good, Hajime. If I didn’t know better, I’d suspect you had been practicing.”

“Yeah, no.” Iwaizumi leant on Oikawa’s shoulder, nuzzling his cheek against the soft sweater material as he squinted at the screen. “That doesn’t look like any of the information I gave you.”

“Hmmm?” Oikawa tilted his head to rest against Iwaizumi’s own. “Oh, that’s because this isn’t Hibagon stuff. Speaking of which, we’ll probably need to go take photos of the outdoor locations you used to wander around in for the documentary. What do you think about next weekend? Too rushed?”

“Next weekend’s fine. Gives us time to ask if any of the others want to come with.” Iwaizumi’s eyes were skimming Oikawa’s notes, a small frown burrowing between his eyebrows. “...what are you - are you researching _owls_?”

“Hey, Hajime,” Oikawa said, voice laced with poorly-hidden glee and anticipation, “How do you feel about investigating people who may or may not turn into birds of prey once a year?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some fun details about this fic:
> 
> \- This fic was almost named 'Tale as Old as Time'.  
> -River stones were included in the picnic spread for Watari, who eats rocks. Sanma is also a common autumn food in Japan.  
> -Iwaizumi's disappearances were all arranged to coincide with a major loss in magic in one of the Seijou folk.  
> \- Iwaizumi was almost going to be a yeti, before I swapped him into the Japanese version of the yeti.  
> \- The wild boars that chased Oikawa at the beginning were initially wolves (to echo the Disney version of BatB). Then, I discovered wolves aren't really a thing in Japan.  
> -The passage that Oikawa reads to Iwaizumi in Chapter 5 comes from 'Images of the Wildman in Southeast Asia: An Anthropological Perspective'.  
> \- There is a fully-developed outline of [KageHina's backstory here](http://hweiro.tumblr.com/post/156401341479/so-i-just-finished-chapter-9-of-could-be-the-one); I'm not sure if I'll flesh the fic out in full, but...I'm quite fond of the idea? Maybe one day when I'm feeling ambitious again.  
> \- No prizes for guessing what story Oikawa is referring to in that last line. *grins*
> 
> There is a small drabble within this same universe [over here on Tumblr](http://hweiro.tumblr.com/post/156492947759/feel-it-in-my-bones)!
> 
> *bows* Thank you once again for reading this monster of a fic! I hope it's been a proper roller-coaster of a story for you as it has been for me.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Kudos and constructive comments are very much appreciated. ⁽(◍˃̵͈̑ᴗ˂̵͈̑)⁽
> 
> Credit here to my beta-reader [Enzen](http://wataksampingan.tumblr.com) as per usual; the amount of flailing/hand-holding she's had to put up with this round is astounding.
> 
> Come find me on tumblr [here](http://hweiro.tumblr.com)!


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